An Apocalypse Means Nothing Because You Are The World In Which I Live
by sitabethel
Summary: When an old tomb-keeper steals the Millennium Tome in order to raise the dead, the gods are forced to send Atem back to the world of the living to end the crisis; however, Bakura doesn't trust him to save Marik, so the thief finds his own way back. Meanwhile, the goddess Isis makes a deal with a certain dark entity, offering him a soul in exchange for his services. [Ships inside]
1. Prologue

*****Ran out of room. Anyway, this is M for adult themes (you know the ones I'm talking about). I'm close enough to the end of this that I figured what the crap, let's start posting.**

 **For a zombie fic, this prologue has absolutely nothing to do with zombies, sorry. That changes in chapter 1, however, and since this section is so short I'll post ch1 in a few days instead of waiting an entire week.**

 **I tried to be really fair with this story. Definitely got out of my comfort zone with this fic. It's longer than I usually write, and it has more characters than I usually write, some of which *cough-Atem-cough* I hate, but like I said, I tried to be fair with all the characters, which was really hard to do. I also tried to make sure all the main characters grow and mature as characters throughout the fic. They may not be quite as innocent as they were in the manga but that's because, well, freaking zombies and life is hard.**

 **List of pairings (by name because I don't want to find them all in the Shipper's List):**

 **Yugi x Anzu**  
 **Jonouchi x Mai**  
 **Honda x Shizuka  
** **Seto x Atem (I don't even know why this is in here, but it is)  
Seto x Kisara  
** **Ishizu x Rishid  
** **Thief King x Marik  
** **Ryo x Kek (Yami Marik)**

 **Not all ships get lemons, but many have at least one, although it's mostly Citronshipping and Deathshipping (obviously, because I'm writing it, and that's what I always write).**

 **Sorry for the long author's note.*****

* * *

He had to find Marik.

If the former tomb-thief shared the gods' faith in Atem he would have been content to stay in Aaru, listening to his father's stories, dancing with cousins in firelight, swimming, sparing, acting in the great theater. There was always something to do in Paradise and always enough time in which to do it. It would not take long before Marik joined him. The time of a living breath and the time it took the earth the cycle the sun a thousand times were the same amount of time to the dead. Then Bakura could show Marik the fields and the orchards. He could show Marik secret gardens where the moon shone instead of the sun. There, in gardens of blue lotus, wild celery, and papyrus plants, Bakura – that was the name he identified with now, because that was the name he gave Marik to call him – would whisper in Marik's ear all the things the thief never realized until it was too late.

It would not take long as Bakura waited for Marik's life to end.

But something felt wrong. He and Amane had talked about it. They often sat on the edge of one of the great bluffs overlooking the eternal wheat fields, their white hair chasing each other in the breeze. Usually she scolded him, but the last time they spoke she kept fretting about her brother.

 _He doesn't write anymore. Something is wrong._

And Bakura agreed, but instead of admitting it he said, _Maybe he's too busy._

 _Then he would write about being busy._

 _Maybe he's in love and doesn't need you anymore._

 _Then he would write and tell me how happy he was. You're an idiot. It's not about needing me; it's about talking to me. The only time he stopped writing was when_ you _got in the way._

 _People change._

 _It's more than that. My father found me._

 _That's good._

 _He said people don't die anymore._

 _Then why is he here?_

 _He said he had to die twice. I told you . . . something's wrong._

 _Ask the gods._

 _I don't trust them._

Bakura gave her an amused snort. _Maybe you're not as naive as I thought._

 _I never have been. You're the childish one._

 _Well, what do you expect me to do?_

 _They say Thoth will do anything for a dice game._

 _Yes. He won five more days a year that way so Nut could give birth._

Amane handed Bakura a pair of dice. She wore a stubborn expression and looked like a copy of her brother at that moment – only older. All spirits were adults in Aaru. She nodded at the dice in Bakura's hand.

 _Why don't you go and do what you're best at?_

 _Playing dice?_

 _Challenging the gods._

 _Why do I care what goes on in the living realm? I'm done with all that pain._

 _I know you care. Besides, there's someone else important to you there. Do you trust the Pharaoh to protect the ones we love?_

Bakura closed his eyes. _You know I don't._

 _Then go find Marik, and after you find him, find my brother and tell him to write me._

He hated to admit it, but she was right, and of course, something had to be wrong if they sent the Pharaoh back among the living. That's all the spirits of Aaru spoke about – how they sent one of the Pharaohs back, and out of all the Pharaoh's to choose from it would be _that Pharaoh._ Bakura heard the news in the olive orchards what seemed like days ago.

Sending Atem back to the living world meant something was wrong beyond natural disaster or the cruelty of mankind. There were always wars, and earthquakes, always violence from humans and nature alike, but the gods never intervened. The fact that they had, and sent their human representation among the living, meant that something supernatural was happening, and Bakura didn't trust the Pharaoh to save anyone other than his own friends.

That's how it'd always been. The Pharaoh was a good and noble king who loved and protected – a small group of elite individuals while everyone else suffered.

But who would save everyone else? And who would save Ryo? And who would save Marik?

 _Not Atem._

Thus Bakura found himself searching eternity for a way back to the Duat so he could figure out how to accomplish the impossible and bring himself back from the dead. The thief knew there had to be a way. If the gods could travel from Aaru to the Duat then there had to be a way for him to escape. He snorted. Who would ever want to escape Paradise? But he couldn't suffer the thought of the Pharaoh back on earth while he played games and read novels under the shade of peach trees.

Marik's mother stood in front of him. He saw Marik in her face, although she resembled his sister more. She wore white. Everyone wore white unless they attended a festival or some other special occasion. Except Bakura, he wore scarlet.

Bakura bowed to her and then walked past her. It wasn't uncommon, to see the ancestor of someone you knew in the living world. The shared connection often drew the spirits together in the spirit world, and he'd been thinking about Marik more than usual since his odd quest began.

"I know what you're looking for," she said as he passed her.

"Oh?" He stopped walking. Tall garlic grass tickled his feet as he waited.

"I know how to find it, too."

"But?"

"If I tell you. I want a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"I will teach you a lullaby. Sing it to my children for me."

"I don't sing."

"You will for Marik."

Bakura narrowed his eyes at the woman. "Are you as stubborn and willful as he is?"

She smiled. "He's my son."

"Fine. No use arguing with you, then. Teach me your song and your secret."

She made him repeat the lyrics until she was satisfied he remembered them correctly. Then she embraced him. "Find the _sha_. They can move between the realms."

Bakura nodded and they parted ways, walking in opposite directions as if they'd never met. The smell of amber, and clay, and lilies clung to the air from her perfume and Bakura made a note to tell Marik the detail. He thought it might make Marik happy to know what his mother's perfume smelled like.

The _sha_ , or Set Beasts, were canine-like chimeras associated with the god Set. Like the gods, they had a way of appearing and disappearing whenever they wanted. It felt like Bakura searched for days, which could be minutes or years in living time. It was impossible for Bakura to judge.

He caught sight of a pack in the desert. Thirteen beasts, their coats a motley of grays like the swirl of a monsoon sky. They circled him as he approached. Their eyes flashed yellow-white like lightning in a storm, and their fur carried the musk of ozone and electricity.

"Bored?" Bakura tried to smirk. If he feared them, then they wouldn't listen to what he had to say, and he needed to live again. "Take me to the Land of Caves. I'm going to cause the other gods some trouble."

There was no ceremony, or fanfare, or even acknowledgment. One moment Bakura felt sand burning beneath his sandals as he stared at thirteen huge beasts. The next moment Bakura saw the opening of a large stone cave and he shivered from a cold wind. The colors looked wrong, and no matter how much Bakura blinked he couldn't fix the near-imperceptible difference in them.

The sky above, the sand below, the cave before him, it all seemed a touch too pastel to be real, but the sounds were real, and they made Bakura shiver. The boiling of lakes, the keening of wind, the screams of both creatures and the cursed. Bakura stepped over the threshold of the cave's entrance.

Thoth ruled over the Land of Caves within the Duat. God of magic, Bakura knew he could find a spell to resurrect himself somewhere within Thoth's collection. But first he'd have to get past Thoth. Bakura stared at the dice in his hand. Amane made them from clay to look like a set of Monster World dice. He smiled and closed his hand around the dice as he walked into the cave. For a moment the thief couldn't see, and Bakura couldn't help but think how much Marik would hate such a place; however, as he continued to walk, the light of a flax lamp grew in the distance.

The god with the body of a man and the head of an ibis sat on a cushion surrounded by scrolls. Bakura watched Thoth scribble cutiform onto a sheet of papyrus. He stepped forward, not stopping until his shadow blocked Thoth's view of the scroll. "That looks tedious. Want a distraction?"

The god squinted at Bakura with his bird's eyes. He took another scroll, considering it a moment before turning back to Bakura. "You were the thief who crossed over because your heart managed to balance the scales regardless of your crimes."

The thief ignored the undertone in Thoth's voice. Bakura could have spent eternity arguing morality and debating the virtue, or lack thereof, of the Negative Confessions, but he had a specific purpose. He opened his palm and showed Thoth the dice. "Want a game?"

Had the god worn lips, he would have licked them. He reached out for the dice, but Bakura pulled them out of reach.

"If I win, I want a boon."

"What?"

"I get one use of any spell in your collection."

The ibis's dark, bead eyes had the look of one who knew better, but also the look of one compelled by addiction. Thoth grabbed the dice.

* * *

 *****Like I said, I'll post chapter 1 in a few days (and it'll have actual zombies, lol). Until then, thanks for reads/favs/reviews and thanks to Revengineer and Supersteffy for beta-ing!*****


	2. Chapter 1

*****General story disclaimers: Yaoi, lemons (even a few non-yaoi lemons, but those are brief), campy, but bloody, zombie-killing violence. Fair warning, this story can get a touch dark in some of the early sections (one in particular, but it has it's own disclaimer). But it's still a typical sitabethel fic, and therefore will have a happy ending. I mean, that's not really a spoiler – all my stories do. Since there are so many ships in this fic, I'll try to post at the top of each chapter if there's a specific ship featured in that chapter - so you can either get excited about it, or skim through it, depending on the ship, I suppose.*****

* * *

The tears blinded Ryo. He ran his sleeve over his eyes so he could see, but what he saw only made more tears blur his vision. "Dad . . . dad." Ryo sniffed, blinking the fresh tears out of his eyes.

Ryo's father only responded with a low moan as he continued to walk closer – slowly, the thing in the hallway had eaten the muscle from Mr. Bakura's right calf and the soft organs in his belly.

Ryo wished he had a better weapon to use. He held a small statue of Anubis; the base was heavy and the corners sharp. It had worked on the other one, and it would work for his father. Stomach acid burned its way up from Ryo's esophagus to the back of his throat. He swallowed, sniffed again, and blinked more tears from his eyes. He had time. His father was slow, and the adrenaline in Ryo's system had time crawling painfully slow on the grandfather clock to Ryo's left. He had time to say goodbye.

"I'm sorry." Ryo sniffed, allowing himself the tears, but not allowing them to interfere with what he had to do. "You saved me. You pushed me out of the way. This is my fault, but . . . but I'll make sure it wasn't for nothing. You wanted me to live, so I'll live. I'll make sure I'll never need rescuing again." Ryo held his breath and forced his tears to stop. He gave them one last rub with his sleeve. "I . . ." Ryo paused again, forcing himself to stay calm. "I love you, dad."

Mr. Bakura reached for Ryo, as if to embrace him, and Ryo used the base of the statue in his hand to smash his father's skull near the temple. When it was done, Ryo dropped the statue. He'd killed the other one in the hallway – _after it was too late, after it was too late, after it was too late._ He backed away, as if to escape what he'd done, but his back hit the wall and forced Ryo to stop. He slid to the ground, curling into a ball and weeping.

 _You're weak._

The thought was a memory, a ghost that sometimes haunted him, the Spirit's voice that once possessed him. He feared the truth in the words. The thought made Ryo's milk-pale hands clench into fists. He dried his eyes and stood up. No more crying, no more needing rescued. Ryo took the pocket knife from his father's belt and the back pack around his shoulders and searched the house. He loaded his rucksack with canned food and water from the kitchen, and then searched upstairs. He found a baseball bat and a flashlight in a bedroom, aspirin, iodine, and bandages in the bathroom medicine cabinet, and a trap door to an attic in the upstairs hallway. In the attic, Ryo dumped out some boxes and went back into the kitchen to gather any food he'd left in the cupboards.

He filled all the sinks and the bath tub with water. It'd been three months and the plumbing still worked, but Ryo knew that wouldn't last much longer. Everyday more people died and became walking corpses. The power went off two days ago, and the water would be next. Once he had everything he could find, Ryo went to the attic. The house seemed secure, now that the owner lay dead in the hallway, but Ryo wasn't taking any chances. He'd promised his father he'd survive.

The flashlight beam caused long shadows to jump across the wall. Hidden beneath an old, iron bird cage, Ryo found some long abandoned camping gear including a sleeping bag, matches, a flint and tinder kit, two more flashlights, and extra batteries. He gathered everything together in the back corner of the room and made a little nest for himself to sleep.

Before he closed his eyes, Ryo took his father's pocket knife and sawed at his hair. The knife tugged and pulled as much as it cut, but Ryo bit his lip and kept cutting. The undead could grab his hair, or it could get stuck on a nail or branch. As much as Ryo loved his long hair, he knew he had to give it up. He took the leftover strands and pulled them back into a short ponytail, and then allowed himself to snuggle beneath the sleeping bag and pass out. Too numb, too exhausted, even for nightmares.

* * *

"Ammo!" Jonouchi shouted as they ran away from the store.

Yugi tossed a clip to his friend. "Last one."

Jonouchi nodded. Once a safe distance away, they walked side by side with pistols in hand. Both carried bulging nap sacks loaded with supplies they and the others needed to survive another week. Their eyes scanned each direction, across the street, through opened doors, in cars. The undead would crawl from any direction to attack, so they always had to watch and listen. The zombies didn't like the light, Anzu thought it hurt their eyes, but the daylight didn't mean safety. He and Jonouchi shot a dozen in the dark store during their supply run, and used axes to kill the occasional stray that chased them down the street.

"Next run, we should search for more ammo, maybe more guns."

Yugi shook his head, still staring left, right, and in front of him while using reflections to keep an eye behind him. "I'm sure all the stores have been ransacked."

"We got lucky at that market. We'll get lucky again." Jonouchi nudged Yugi with a playful elbow. "I mean, no one has luck like you do, Yugi."

Yugi sighed. "Maybe."

A shout drew their attention towards a dark alley ahead of them. They exchanged looks.

"We have to help whoever it is," Yugi said.

Jonouchi nodded and they ran. In the shadows, three zombies closed in on a dark figure standing on top of a trash dumpster. He swung a sword at them, but his sweeps were sloppy. The stranded person was only warding off attacks, not trying to kill.

"Axes." Jonouchi holstered his pistol in order to grab the hickory ax-handle with both hands.

Yugi did the same. They crept behind the animated corpses. Jonouchi swung his ax directly into a former man's skull. Yugi had to swing behind the knee, severing tendons and muscle to force the corpse down in order for Yugi to reach the skull. By the time he finished his first kill, Jonouchi already had his second corpse down.

"Thank you," a voice said. A familiar voice.

Yugi jerked his head up. "A-Atem?"

His former other half crouched on the dumpster lid, smiling down at his former vessel. "It's good to see you again, _aibou_."

The ax dropped from Yugi's hand. "Atem? It's been . . . nine years. Is it really you?"

"It's me." The once-Pharaoh jumped down, embracing his friend.

Jonouchi wrapped his arms around both of them. "See, Yug? You have the best luck. Everything will be better now. Watch."

"How?" Yugi whispered. "How? You're not like them. You're – you're really back."

"The gods sent me," Atem answered. "Ma'at wants me to help restore balance."

Jonouchi pulled away from the triple hug first. "Look. This is awesome, but we need to get back. It isn't safe out here, and this alley is too dark for comfort. We can talk back at the place."

"The place?" Atem asked as he sheathed his bronze sword. He was truly Atem again (and not Yugi). He wore sand-colored skin, and the garb of an Egyptian Pharaoh. But his smile was the same, and his posture, and his body language. He was still their friend. They left the dark alley for what protection the sunlit street offered.

"An old apartment building we're using." Yugi shrugged. "No one wants to call it 'home', so we call it 'the place'. We've been there about four months. The bottom level is sealed off, so we use a rope ladder to get to the higher floors. The zombies can't reach us up there."

"Zombies?"

"The dead," Yugi explained.

They reached a seven storied, brick building. Jonouchi whistled twice, and a rope ladder dropped down from the fourth floor window. Jonouchi climbed up first, followed by Yugi, and then Atem. As soon as they were back inside, Yugi pulled the ladder back up.

"You're back." Jonouchi's sister ran to him and threw her arms around him.

"Shizuka? Why are you awake? You had watch last night; you should be resting."

"I did, a bit." She pulled back and held her stomach, showing the tell-tale swell of pregnancy. "I'll go back to sleep, but I wanted to make sure you returned."

"Hey." Jonouchi scuffled her hair. "It's me and Yugi. Of course we returned. Right, Yugi?"

Yugi smiled and nodded. "And we brought back an old friend."

That's when she noticed Atem. Shizuka wiped a tear from her cheek as she walked up to Atem and wrapped him in an embrace. "You're back. It's strange," she whispered. "Somehow I knew you would be."

Atem spoke in a low, serious voice. "I'm going to do everything I can to fix this, so please listen to your brother and get some rest."

"All right." She disappeared out of the room.

"It's really been nine years?" Atem looked at Jonouchi and then Yugi.

Yugi nodded. "She and Honda take the night watch. The zombies are active at night, so we keep watch although we _should_ be safe here."

"But we thought that about the last place, too." Jonouchi clenched his hand into a fist.

Yugi sighed. "Yeah, and because we let our guard down, we lost Mai when they attacked. I mean, that's not a euphemism, we lost track of her. She was still alive the last time we saw her."

Jonouchi's face changed from his usual confidence to something far too grave for his personality. "She is _definitely_ still alive. We just have to find her."

"Of course," Yugi agreed. "I'm sure we will. Ryo and Otogi, too."

"What happened to them?" Atem asked.

"We never could find Otogi." Yugi shrugged, sad at the memory. "And Ryo got separated from us after only a few days." Yugi tugged at Atem's sleeve. "Come on. I bet Anzu is on the roof tending to the garden. She'll be really happy to see you."

They walked out to the apartment hallway and took the fire stairs to the roof, talking as they climbed.

"Yugi," Atem spoke first, "how long? How long have things been like this?"

Yugi exchanged a glance with Jonouchi as they thought about the answer. "Over two years? It's hard to keep track anymore," Yugi answered.

Atem stopped. His hand gripped the safety rail of the staircase. "That long? Why . . . why would the gods wait so long to send me back?"

Yugi gave his other half a sad smile. "Who knows why the gods do things, but if I had to guess I would say they were waiting until we were strong enough to protect you."

Atem shook his head. "But I'm supposed to protect you."

"No, you're suppose to restore balance, and we'll make sure you do."

"Damn right we will." Jonouchi gave them a thumbs up and then turned back up the stairs.

They climbed to the fifth and sixth floors in silence.

"Yugi," Atem asked as they neared the roof. "You haven't mentioned your grandfather."

This time Yugi stopped. He turned around in order to face Atem and took both his hands. "He . . . passed away. Three days before any of this happened." Yugi squeezed Atem's hands and released them. "I'm glad. I miss him, but I'm really happy he never saw any of this. See? I think the gods know what they're doing after all."

Atem frowned as he walked up the last steps. When they walked back outside, the sunlight forced them to shield their eyes. Yugi blinked until his vision adjusted. He smiled when he saw Anzu watering tomatoes. In the streets, the smell of old, burned cars and human refuse fouled the air, but on the roofs the air smelt of summer. A breeze picked up and blew Anzu's hair across her cheeks as she stared at her plants without noticing Jonouchi, Yugi, and Atem. Yugi felt his heart quicken in his chest. No matter how long they were together – they married three years ago – Yugi never grew tired of watching her do the simplest, most mundane tasks.

"Oi! Anzu!" Jonouchi waved and shouted.

Her head jerked up. The watering can slipped from her fingers, but she caught it. Setting down the can, Anzu jogged towards them. "Jonouchi! Yugi!" She stopped halfway when she noticed Atem.

Yugi smiled. He spoke loud enough for his voice to carry. "He's here to help us. The gods brought him back."

Anzu pressed both palms over her heart and stood in place. She took a single step forward, then another, by the third step she was running towards them. She pulled both Yugi and Atem in a simultaneous embrace. For a moment, Yugi thought she wept, and he ran his fingers through her sunlit hair to comfort her. Then he realized she was laughing. It wasn't the strong, enduring laugh Yugi had grown to love over the last year or two as they survived. It was the old, girlish laugh she had in high school, and in that moment, Yugi fell in love with her all over again.

* * *

"Where's Ishizu!" Marik screamed.

"I don't know." Rishid kept close to Marik's side.

Marik scanned the Domino pier. They arrived at dusk. Nothing moved as they tied their boat to keep it from drifting. They saw neither people nor animals, only birds lining on telephone wires and on the edges of buildings. It wasn't until the sun sank close to the horizon that the dead came – more than Marik could count. They had to run, but somehow Ishizu disappeared into the crowd.

"Ishizu!" Marik screamed as loud as he could. More of the creatures surrounded them in the streets as he searched for any sign of his sister. Like Rishid, Marik carried a khopesh in each hand. Not an ancient sword of bronze or iron, but a modern version of the weapon made from well-forged, truck spring steel. He used the blunted tips to bludgeon the dead as he combed the streets. "Ishizu!"

"Master Marik." Rishid spoke low, calm, and urgent into Marik's ear. "Shouting is only attracting more. We need to leave."

Marik pushed Rishid away, killing two more undead as he screamed again. "Ishizu!"

The orange left the sky, and the streets grew dark, dark as the tomb from his childhood. Marik felt panic surge up through him as the sky bruised indigo and the dead swarmed him. He lost something inside of himself and screamed, sending corpse, after corpse, after corpse to the ground. It reminded Marik, yet again, that the violence in him was something he couldn't send away to the Shadows. It was deep-rooted in his nature; it was part of who he was. But even as Marik hacked anything that stumbled towards him, more appeared. He fought back-to-back with Rishid. A wall of fallen bodies surrounded them, but there were too many. Marik prayed he at least managed to draw enough of them to him to allow Ishizu to escape.

"Sorry, Rishid," Marik whispered as a new wave lurched towards them.

Before Rishid could answer, a light blinded them. It wasn't man-made, Marik felt _heka_ and spiritual energy mixed with the light. White. The light shone whiter than alabaster, and Marik's head felt light as a familiar feeling washed over him.

The undead retreated, crawling over each other in desperation as they fled. Marik's jaw hung loose as he watched in shock. Then he noticed the cause of the light. A human _ka_ , a soul summoned by magic. The beast loomed above Marik, huge, and white, and magnificent. It resembled a naga, the lower half that of a snake, and the muscles in the creature's chest broad and tall as tower shields, but it had angel wings that spanned the length of the street. Marik stowed his swords and reached towards the creature. A feeling of familiarity seized him, and a feeling of intimacy that he'd only ever known once in his life.

A notorious laugh broke the spell enchanting Marik. He drew his hand back and searched for the owner of the laughter. He found him sitting cross-legged on the roof of a one story, abandoned, noodle restaurant. The scarlet cloak flowed over his brown shoulders and pooled around him like blood from a gash. Marik might not have recognized him if it wasn't for the hair - the same stunning white as the creature that had rescued them.

"Bakura?" Marik asked, noticing how his voice faltered as he spoke.

"We really need to break this habit of me saving your ass. Don't you agree, Ishtar?" Bakura called down from the roof.

"Fortunately you did a better job this time. Otherwise I'd be dead."

"Is that the gratitude I get?" The thief stood up. The _ka_ reached out with an opened palm and Bakura stepped onto the platform, allowing the creature to lower him to street level. He walked up to Marik, stopping three centimeters from Marik's face. "Have you ever tried saying 'thank you' before, tomb-keeper?"

Marik touched the scar on the thief's cheek. His fingers trailed from Bakura's cheek to his lips. Marik gave one quick pull with his mouth against Bakura's bottom lip before he had a chance to think about what it was he did.

Bakura smirked. "Well, that's close enough."

Marik gestured to the _ka_ behind them. "Too bad you didn't have that during Battle City."

"Indeed, but I couldn't call Diabound when I was a spirit. You need to be alive to summon your life-force."

Marik tugged at Bakura's red cloak. "So this is what you looked like? When you were alive?"

Bakura nodded.

Rishid cleared his throat, bringing Marik back to the present. "Shit. Ishizu." Marik ran back towards the pier.

"Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?" Bakura chased after him.

"I have to find my sister. We got separated at the pier."

Marik ran back to his ship, any lingering undead scampering back into the shadows at the sight of Diabound's light. They looked on the ship, on the docks, in a warehouse filled with burnt corpses, but he couldn't find her anywhere.

"Dammit!" Marik punched the sheet-metal wall of the warehouse. He gasped for breath, on the verge of hyperventilation as he scanned for signs of moving, _living_ body.

"Marik." Bakura grabbed his shoulders.

Marik fought the hold, but Bakura's new (or rather old) body was stronger than his host's body had been. "Let go, you bastard!"

"There's no fresh blood."

Marik stopped struggling. "What?"

"There's no fresh blood, no corpse, and she wasn't one of the turned that ran."

Rishid looked around. "He's right, Marik."

"Think about it." Bakura released Marik's shoulders once he'd calmed down enough to check the ground for fresh blood. "She's arguably the smarter Ishtar. She wouldn't go running in the street and shouting like an idiot. She would have found shelter."

"Fuck you, Bakura." Marik pushed his way past the thief in order to leave the warehouse and go back to the dock. Without electric lighting, the night would resemble pitch if Diabound didn't light their way.

"It will be easier to find her when the sun comes up," Rishid said.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Rishid, we can't leave her out here the entire night."

Rishid shook his head. "She's stronger than you know, Marik. Even if we don't find her – our job here is more important than any of our lives. She'll expect you to search for the Tome with or without her."

Marik balled his hands into fists. He almost hit Rishid, but he controlled his anger. Instead he screamed. "How can you say that?"

"Because it's true!"

Marik jerked back. Rishid had never screamed at Marik – not once in his whole life. Marik shook his head, trembling from a mix of rage and helplessness. "No, it's not true. Family is more important than everything else. Fuck the rest of humanity. We're finding Ishizu."

He felt Bakura's hand rest on his shoulder. "Marik."

Marik jerked away. "This isn't your problem, Bakura. Leave me be."

Bakura snorted. Marik glanced over his shoulder and saw Bakura with the same smirk on his face that he always wore before. Even in a different body that expression belonged to Bakura and Bakura alone.

"What?" Marik glared at Bakura.

"Once again it looks like we share the same goal, tomb-keeper."

"To find Ishizu? Because that's my only goal right now." Marik started walking, keeping his eyes out for any sign of his sister.

"You know I meant the Millennium Tome. You're trying to get it back, correct?"

"Yes," Rishid answered.

"Well, I'm here to help you."

"I don't need your help." Marik walked a little faster.

Bakura matched his pace so that he walked beside Marik as Rishid tailed them. "Difficult as ever, I see."

Marik snorted. "Why do you even care enough to help?"

Bakura grabbed Marik's shoulders and spun him until they stood face to face. "Is it so hard to believe?"

"Yes." Marik pulled away. "Considering that the last time I met you you were trying to release Zorc Necrophades back into the world and destroy all of existence."

Bakura narrowed his gaze, his jaw tight. "That . . . wasn't completely me."

"Yeah? Well I guess none of us were completely us back then." Marik began walking again. "But I don't really care about that. I'm finding my sister. The Tome can wait."

Bakura stayed where he was. "Then I'll help you find her."

Marik turned around, walking backwards. "Why?"

Bakura shrugged. "Looking for the Tome, looking for your sister, it all amounts to looking, right? We'll look until we find one or the other."

Marik spun around. "Whatever. Follow if you want."

"What's your problem?" Bakura growled.

"Nothing," Marik said.

"Really?" Bakura said the word like a challenge. "Then do you mind explaining to me why you kissed me when you saw me, but you've been a complete dick ever since?"

Because Marik needed to find his sister and didn't have time to work out his emotions. Because he knew Rishid had been right, but he didn't want to admit it. Because Bakura was darker and better built than his former host. Because the scar on Bakura's face accented his cheek bones. Because each time Bakura grinned with his proper face, and not the stolen one he once wore, Marik's heart skipped. Because when Bakura stood too close Marik could smell the desert, and it reminded him of the first breath of fresh air he'd ever taken away from the tomb. Because it'd been almost ten years, and here Bakura was, but Marik couldn't take the time to fall in Bakura's arms and process what that meant – because the world was dying and Marik needed to try and save it and he didn't have time to work out his emotions.

All Marik said was, "Look . . . I'm just worried about Ishizu, okay?"

"Then stop walking down the street like a moron, and let's check the buildings – she's probably inside one of them."

Marik stopped, frowning. "Every single building? We can be out here all night and not find her."

Rishid stood quiet as always, but Bakura gestured to the nearest store. "Then we better hurry up. I can maintain Diabound's form for a long time, but not forever."

Marik glanced at the winged, serpentine creature. If it wasn't for the godlike _ka_ , they'd be stuck with flashlights and flesh-eating monsters. "Bakura?"

Bakura was almost inside the first shop. He turned around. "What is it now?"

"Thank you."

* * *

 *****Mondays are the best days for me to update, so here's chapter 1, and I'll post chapter 2 next Monday. Hope y'guys like it.*****


	3. Chapter 2

*****Disclaimer: In-chapter spoiler alert and possible trigger warning. This chapter has 3 sections (Kek/Atem/Marik). And in the third one, Ishizu recounts and attempted rape scene (emphasis on *attempted*). The story doesn't show the actual scene, but it shows the aftermath - which includes the result of Ishizu going fight-or-flight (sans flight so . . . pretty much going yami marik on the guys that tried to mess with her). It's not horribly graphic, but it is emotional. Honestly, I don't think it'll bother most people, but if you're extra sensitive to that sort of thing you might just want to skip the last section. Feel free to message me if you want a more pg13 rated summary if you're afraid of missing out on the story-line.**

 **Out of all the "how Yami Marik becomes Kek" sections I've ever written, I think this one if my favorite . . . probably because he gets to eat a beating heart.*****

* * *

He sat in darkness; he didn't really exist. It didn't seem right to him that he didn't exist. Why shouldn't he be Marik? The anger he felt as Marik was real. The pleasure he felt as hot blood sprayed over his throat and cheek was real. He felt real, so why was he only an alter ego? It didn't seem right – that he got to think and feel but not _be._

And then he stood in a room with stone walls covered in hieratic. Bronze braziers lit the chamber. Their soft light looked beautiful after the monotony of darkness, but he noticed that he didn't cast a shadow.

A woman stood in front of him, beautiful like the Nile. "You truly wish to be a whole person?"

He looked at her, wary of her. He spoke with uncharacteristic respect. "I want to exist, Mother."

She wasn't his mother. Marik's pain was his mother, and Marik's hatred was his father, but she was Isis, so he gave her her dues.

A clay pot appeared in the woman's hand. She handed it to him. "Throw it."

He grinned, shattering the pot against the stone floor. Even the small destruction had its satisfaction.

Isis knelt down and picked up a shard. "Anger." She picked up a second. "Hatred." She put the two pieces side by side and they mended into a larger shard. She lifted up more fragments. "Sorrow. Joy. Envy. Lust." Each time she said an emotion, she put another piece back into the pot. She continued, on and on, emotion after emotion, until she held the last piece up for him to see. "Love." Once in place, the pot stood whole again. "Do you understand?"

He nodded, but he didn't believe her. In time he thought he could feel other emotions – envy, lust, mirth, obsession, but not love. He was darkness and chaos. He wouldn't ever feel love.

The clay vessel changed in her hands. It became a heart, gleaming with fresh, steaming blood, beating a soothing rhythm. He licked his lips; saliva filled his mouth. He wanted it. He wanted to taste the hot, copper blood and feel the beating against his tongue as his teeth rent into the dense muscle. It was the color of over ripe pomegranates.

"The dead have overrun the land. Anubis leads their spirits into the Duat, but with their hearts still trapped in their animated bodies they cannot be judged. Tell me, Fragment. Would you enjoy killing the dead?"

He thought about it. No hot blood spraying against his warm flesh, no screams for mercy; nonetheless, he thought it would be a lot of fun to kill them anyway. He had fun smashing the pot on the ground. "Yes. It would be fun."

She offered the heart to him. "Then take this."

He took the bloody heart in both hands, licking his lips again.

"Go ahead. Eat it."

He bit into the muscle. Blood pooled into his mouth, hot, delicious, nourishing. He chewed. The fibers were tough and stubborn. His jaw ached after a few bites, but he didn't stop. The more he ate, the more he needed to until tears streamed down his cheeks. It was so good, so good. Each bite filled him inside. Each bite felt like Isis putting another shard back into place.

"You came to me with only a _ba._ This is your _ib._ " The goddess pointed to the ground. He noticed that he cast a shadow that hadn't existed moments before. "That is your _shuet_. I will give you a _ka._ You still need a _ren._ "

"I'm Marik," he said as he licked the blood from his palms and fingers.

"No. You were a fragment broken away from Marik. Now he and you are two separate vessels."

"I'm . . ." he paused. He didn't know who he was. "I'm . . . darkness."

"Then I will call you Kek."

"Kek," he said the word out loud to feel it on his tongue. He liked it, quick and hard like a knife punched into a soft, human belly.

"Listen Kek. You are to be my sickle. The animated dead are a field of wheat and I want you to harvest them, but kill only the dead. If you kill another living being with selfish or wicked intentions in your heart – then I'll take back my gifts to you. You will not be judged; instead, you will cease to exist."

He gave his lips one last taste, savoring the metallic tingle of flavor gracing against his tongue. "I want to exist, so I'll kill only the dead."

She nodded. "There's one more task for you."

Kek nodded, listening.

"The Pharaoh needs to restore balance. Once he does, the undead will disappear and I'll have no more need for a scythe to reap them. When that time comes, bring the Millennium Tome back to me. Do this, and you'll spend eternity in Aaru, not the Shadow Realm."

Kek thought about it. He wondered how long that gave him to be alive. A month? A year? Who knew, but he didn't fear death – he feared oblivion. "Okay."

* * *

They ate a simple meal, salad from Anzu's garden, hard boiled eggs, and instant oatmeal that Joey and Yugi found during their food run. They sat on the roof, the sunset burnishing the sky into gold and blood-red copper hues. Atem smiled as he watched them eat. They told him stories of the past nine years, finishing each other's sentences in their excitement. It was good, to see them happy. They'd gone through living, waking nightmares for almost two years, but it didn't tarnish their friendship or stop them from smiling.

"So what's the plan?" Joey spoke with his mouth full of boiled egg.

"I need to find the Millennium Tome," Atem said. "It's the cause of all this, so I should be able to use it to restore balance."

"The Millennium Tome?" Shizuka asked.

"An ancient spell book once owned by my family in Egypt. It's how the Millennium Items were created."

"And . . . it has something to do with the dead attacking us?" Yugi's violet eyes flashed in the failing sunlight. His face looked sad.

Atem nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"But . . ." Anzu squeezed Yugi's hand. "That spell book could be anywhere."

"It's here," Atem said. "Somewhere in Domino. At least that's what the gods told me."

Yugi smiled, pushing the sadness away from his face. "Then we'll simply have to find it."

"But," Honda said, "Domino is a huge city, and the Tome could be anywhere. Even during the day it'll be dangerous."

Atem stood up. "You've all been through enough. I'll go alone."

"No," Joey argued. "We're a team. That hasn't changed, no matter how long you've been gone. We'll do this together."

Atem frowned, looking at his friends sitting cross-legged in a circle and eating instant oatmeal for dinner. "I can't ask that of you."

"Atem." Yugi rose to his feet to stand beside him. "Don't get me wrong, we love you and have faith in you, but you couldn't even handle three of those things this afternoon. We can't let you go walking around the city alone."

"I can fight them." Atem tried to sound fearless, but the memory of the shambling corpses lurching towards him made his stomach knot.

Yugi shook his head. "No amount of training on the roof can prepare you for walking the streets." Yugi shoved his hands into his pockets. "I think . . . our best bet is to try and reach Kaiba's."

"But we've tried that." Anzu's eyebrows furrowed. "His mansion is too close to the hospital. The streets are impassable."

"Besides." Joey waved off the idea. "He's probably hiding in a panic room somewhere with a year's worth of rations still stockpiled up. Even if we made it there, he wouldn't open the gates and let us inside."

Yugi patted Atem's arm. "He would if he saw Atem. Not even a decade and an apocalypse is enough to slate Kaiba's need for a rematch against my other half."

"If he's still alive," Shizuka whispered.

"Of course he is." Yugi smiled as if smiling would make his words true.

Joey snorted. "I don't see why we need _him_."

"Because he has resources," Yugi said. "It wouldn't surprise me if he still had contacts within the city that could gather information for us. He'll help us."

"If we can get there," Honda reiterated.

Yugi looked at him, and then Shizuka, and then Anzu. "I think only Atem, Joey, and myself should go."

"No." Anzu stood up, her face lily-pale at Yugi's suggestion. "You and Joey go on scavenging trips together. I know you're used to the streets, but this isn't a trip to the market. We promised, after we lost Ryo and Mai, that we'd stay together for anything big. We all go, or none of us go."

"Shizuka shouldn't go," Yugi whispered.

Joey's sister frowned and rubbed her belly.

"Yugi." Anzu clenched her hands. "Fine. Honda and Shizuka can stay here with all the remaining supplies, but _I_ should go with you."

"Anzu." Yugi grabbed her in an embrace. "Everything will be fine . . . but if we don't come back you need to be here to help Shizuka deliver her baby."

Atem couldn't take it. He'd give up his life and name all over again if he could spare the looks on his friends faces. Yes, their friendship remained strong, but it was obvious that they were no longer the innocent children he knew. He rested his hands on the back of Anzu's shoulders, Yugi still held her. "I promise – _I swear by the gods_ – I'll bring Yugi back, Joey too."

Tears slid down her cheeks, but she didn't weep. "Of course you will."

* * *

"In here, Marik!" Rishid called out.

Marik and Bakura ran down the hall to find Rishid. Each carried an impromptu torche that Bakura fashioned out of scrap wood and rags lit with _heka._

Ishizu sat curled in on herself on top of a bookshelf in the back corner of the room. "Don't look at me!" She called out, curling tighter into her own body.

Marik's torch fell out of his hand. He ran to his sister. "You're bleeding."

"No." She shook her head.

"You're drenched in blood." Marik tried to grab her hands, but she pushed him away.

"It's not mine. Just . . . go back to the ship, Marik."

"Miss Ishizu—"

"Rishid," she scolded.

Rishid sighed. "Ishizu, what happened?"

Ishizu shook her head; she trembled.

"Ishizu," Rishid whispered. He brushed a few bangs away from her blood-smeared forehead. She kept the rest of her black hair held back in a long braid. Instead of her usual dress, she wore pants and boots beneath a shift. The clothes were cream colored that morning, but blood had dyed her tunic crimson.

She pushed Rishid away, a sob escaping her lips. She wept into her red hands.

Marik climbed on top of the bookshelf in order to sit across from Ishizu. He didn't attempt to touch her, but he leaned close. "Ishizu. I know it was bad, and I know you don't want to think about it, but remember what you told me? About holding it inside? It makes it worse. So take a deep breath, count to three, exhale, and tell us what happened."

Ishizu nodded, sucking air into her lungs and holding it until her tears stopped. She blew out her breath, but kept her eyes closed as if to avoid seeing the words she spoke. "There were too many. One moment you were right beside me and the next we were separated. I couldn't fight them all, so I ran. They were everywhere." Ishizu paused, blinking her eyes open as she continued telling her story in a voice that somehow managed to stay calm and composed despite Ishizu's mental state. "Then two men appeared with baseball bats wrapped in chains. They killed enough of the undead for us to escape, so I followed them. They brought me here. They said it was safe. I thought they were good people. They said they had water, so I followed them up here, but they shoved me into the bathroom." Ishizu shuddered and curled back into her ball.

"It's okay," Marik whispered, but his skin looked ashen in the torchlight. "You're doing good. Go on, Sister."

She shook her head. "I can't."

Bakura, holding both his and Marik's torches together in his left hand, wandered towards the master bathroom. Rishid followed him. Ishizu tried to wipe at her cheeks, but it only smeared more blood onto her face.

"Holy gods," Bakura whispered, and that concerned Marik. His sister wasn't one for emotional breakdowns, and Bakura wasn't one for covering his mouth with his free hand.

"What is it?" Marik asked.

"Stay there, Marik." Rishid's tone concerned Marik more. Rishid stepped into the bathroom and brought out Ishizu's two khopesh swords, both lacquered in blood.

"They pinned me down," Ishizu explained, almost to the swords and not the people in the room. "The sun set. It was dark, and I was trapped. I was trapped. You know, Marik, you know." She grabbed Marik's hands, her grip trembling but fierce. "You know, don't you?"

Marik nodded. He felt like his soul was tangled in Ammit's jaw. That was supposed to be _his_ pain, _his_ trauma, _his_ mind-controlling anxiety triggered by dark and closed spaces and a feeling of being unsafe in one's own skin. It was never, never, _never_ , meant for his siblings. That pain wasn't _meant_ for Ishizu. She made it out of the tomb without an alter ego or a plan to kill the Pharaoh. She wasn't supposed to be hurt like that.

But in the end, they all grew up in that tomb. Rishid, Marik, Ishizu, they all grew up in the same rooms and the same hallways, under the rules of the same man. Marik realized they had the same scars as him – only they wore them beneath the skin. Whatever happened to Ishizu triggered the same response in her that Marik felt during his initiation, but she didn't have an alter ego, so she had to deal with it herself.

Ishizu nodded, understanding that Marik understood. It was only then that Marik noticed the tears in her clothing. A cold, dead fury started growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Ishizu . . . did they . . ."

She shook her head no. "They grabbed me. One had his hand in my mouth, and I couldn't breathe, and it was like . . . like I became a monster. I bit down on the one and kicked the other, which gave me just enough time to reach my blades . . ." She leaned back against the wall, exhausted.

Marik looked at the bathroom door, and then to Rishid. He nodded, and Marik knew without looking that there probably wasn't much left of the two corpses laying on the bathroom floor. "Good."

She shook her head no again. "Marik, it's never right to kill. What I did . . . was horrible."

"What you did was self-defense."

"That's no excuse," Ishizu whispered. "The anger . . . I was so angry. I couldn't stop cutting them. Even after they died, I didn't stop. No, I even waited for them to come back so I could kill them again, hitting their heads against the floor until everything was too soft to hold on to. It was awful. I was just like . . ." She rested her head against her knees.

Marik looked away. "Like me?"

Ishizu jerked back up. "No. No, Marik, like father. When he used his lash on Rishid. That's what I thought of, not . . . not you." Ishizu's shaking became more visible. Her entire body trembled. "I'd forgotten, how much he used his whip after mother passed away. I shouldn't have acted like that. What I did was beyond self-defense."

"So what?" Marik couldn't keep his voice from cracking. "So what if you cut them a few extra times? They weren't people. They were the monsters, not you. They were worse than the dead we're fighting." Marik held his sister's face so she couldn't look anywhere but in his eyes. "Ishizu, listen to me. Do you know what you did? You saved the next girl. The next girl they would have found who wouldn't have two swords, and who wouldn't be able to fight off two grown men – you saved that girl, and the one after her, and the one after her. Men like that don't stop with one victim."

He let go of her. Ishizu frowned, thinking about what Marik said. Bakura walked up to them, handing them each one of the two torches. Marik stared at him for a moment, but the thief stayed silent and turned away from them. He sat on the bed, fingers pressed together in a cage. What Bakura did next was the last thing Marik would have ever dreamed of Bakura doing. He sang. Low and soft, as if unsure of his vocal cords, Bakura sang a lullaby. Marik almost dropped his torch. He recognized the song; both Rishid and Ishizu had sang it to Marik as a child.

Something in the melody brought Ishizu back. Her tears stopped, her shaking stilled, and her breathing slowed. She stared at Bakura, her expression soft. "Where did you hear that song?"

A half grin twisted the corner of Bakura's mouth. "Aaru."

Ishizu blinked once and stared at Bakura, raising her torch to get a better look at him. "So, you really are . . . that same thief? How is it possible?"

"It just is." Bakura stared at the pillows at the head of the bed to avoid looking at anyone else. "In Aaru, before I came back, she found me and made me learn the song. I told her _no_ , but she insisted I learn it."

Rishid took a step closer to the bed. He and Ishizu had the same expression on their faces. "Who?" he asked.

"Do you mean . . ." Ishizu didn't finish her question.

"Yes. Your mother. She wanted me to sing it to the three of you." Bakura stood up and walked out the room.

Marik jumped down from the bookshelf to follow him. He stopped, turning back towards Ishizu. She smiled and made a shooing gesture with her hand. She looked better, like herself again, so Marik stepped out of the room.

"Bakura?" he asked the shadows.

"Marik, go back with the torches. It's dark out here."

It was, tomb-dark, and Marik's heart mumbled in his chest in a panic, but that didn't stop him from walking down the hall where Bakura's shadow sat in a corner. Marik reached out with his hands until he felt Bakura's shoulders. He sat himself right in Bakura's lap and wrapped his arms around Bakura's neck. Multiple emotions whirled in Marik's head, and he wasn't sure which one he needed to process first.

"What the hell, Marik? I came out here to get away from this sort of thing."

"Did you want away from this?" Marik kissed Bakura a second time.

Marik thought he needed to kiss Bakura. It seemed the right thing to do, but as soon as their lips touched, tears welled up in Marik's closed eyes. A sob broke the kiss.

"Stop it." Bakura touched Marik's hair. "I did it to make her stop, not to get you going."

Marik did stop. A moment of raw feeling was all he needed. He dried his tears with his forearm. "You didn't have to. Sing. You didn't have to."

Bakura made a noise in his throat. Marik wasn't sure how to interpret it. Bakura's fingers found their way to Marik's hair and shifted down to Marik's collarbone. "I might have anyways – to you, when we were alone."

Marik kissed Bakura again. This time, he truly needed the contact, and for a moment Marik forgot about the dark.


	4. Chapter 3

*****AN: Who wants an entire chapter of** **Thiefshipping** **(ug, I meant Citronshipping, I always do that. Post canon Citron in my head is pretty much Thiefshipping, because I think of Citronshipping as specifically in Ancient Egypt)? Regardless of what I call it, I hope you raised your hand, because that's what this chapter is.*****

* * *

The boat had three rooms, one for each Ishtar. Bakura found himself on a cot near the galley. He stared at the ceiling. His fingers wouldn't stop drifting to his lips. The pressure from Marik's mouth lingered within his nerves, and he couldn't sleep because of it. Irritated, he jumped up and crept down the hall until he found the room in which he knew Marik slept.

He used a length of wire as his own, personal key. The lock gave a soft, metallic click, and then the door swung open. Inside, Marik lay beneath a sheet, eyes closed and hair fanned across his pillow. A smirk curled on Marik's lips as Bakura walked towards him.

"You know, Bakura, when someone locks their door, it usually means that—"

"And when someone locks their door knowing that I'm right down the hall, it's an invitation for me to visit."

Marik sat up, his hair pulling away from the pillow and draping across his bare shoulders instead. His smirk stayed in place. "Oh? Is that what it was? And if I'd left the door unlocked?"

"Less challenge. Less temptation."

Marik patted the spot beside him and Bakura dropped himself against the mattress, laying on his side and propping his head up with his hand. He studied Marik. The boy had been attractive during Battle City, but now he'd truly grown into himself and looked breathtaking. The bratty, conceited quality to him seemed to be replaced with a more temperate elegance. "How long have I been gone?"

Marik mulled the question over in his head. "Not quite a decade, but close enough."

"Time is odd in Aaru. Everything exists in the moment, and every moment is both fleeting and eternal."

A little laugh slipped out of Marik's mouth, not bitter or sarcastic like the laughs Bakura remembered from him. It was a sincere sound. "That sounded poetic."

"Did it?" Bakura asked, paying more attention to the shape of Marik's mouth than to his words.

Marik laid back down, mirroring Bakura so they lay face-to-face. They looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then Marik started laughing again. He dropped his face into the mattress to hide himself from view.

"What the hell's so funny?"

Marik shook his head, face pressed into his bed-sheet.

Bakura scowled at Marik. When Marik peeked up and saw Bakura's expression, he burst into another round of laughter.

"Dammit, Ishtar, you're annoying."

"Then get the fuck out of my room." Marik composed himself enough to quit laughing, but he still hid his face as he caught his breath.

Bakura sat up and swung his legs off of the bed. Marik pushed himself up. The look on his face suggested that he hadn't expected Bakura to move. "Wait."

Bakura glanced over his shoulder. "Why?"

Marik crawled a little closer to the thief. "I'm not done looking at you." He placed his hands on Bakura's cheeks.

Bakura turned his head away. "I'm not a damn animal in a zoo."

"I was laughing at your face," Marik said.

"What?" Bakura's brow furrowed, indignation twisted his features.

"That sounded worse than I meant it."

"I'm not quite convinced of that."

Marik shifted on the mattress until he sat next to Bakura. He brushed the tip of his pointer finger across Bakura's nose. "Your features are more broad."

Bakura pulled his face away from Marik's touch yet again. "What's so funny about that, asshole?"

"Nothing. I'm . . . not sure why I started laughing."

"You're an idiot."

"And you're a jerk."

"Hey, I'm not the one laughing at your face. You're the jerk."

"Well, you called me an idiot."

"So what? You called me a jerk."

"Only because you called me an idio – oh fuck it. We're just going in a circle."

Bakura laughed, a soft, precise sound. "Guess we were."

They fell into another silence. Marik reached out for a third time, touching Bakura's forehead, trailing his fingertips down the mild clef in Bakura's chin, and brushing the pads of his fingers along Bakura's thick lips. Bakura tilted his head up, the light catching the contours of his face and chest. Marik slipped his touch down Bakura's throat, and dipped his thumb into the hollow created by Bakura's collarbone.

"Is . . . how long is this going to last? Are you back, or are you only here long enough to help us retrieve the Tome?"

The corner of Bakura's mouth turned upward. "What? Afraid I'll vanish?"

Marik's eyes lifted up from Bakura's skin to his face. A rueful, earnest expression left his face unmasked of his usual confidence. "Yes."

Bakura reached out and teased Marik's earring. "I'll go back to the gods when I die regardless if we've found the Tome or not."

"So you're alive? Truly alive?"

"Yeah, me and my hilariously broad face."

"That's not how I meant it."

"Then how did you mean it?"

"I . . . wanted to touch your face – because it's handsome – but that seemed stupid, so I started laughing."

Bakura smiled. "You're an idiot."

"And you're a jerk."

Bakura grabbed Marik's hand and placed it back on his cheek. Marik smiled and continued studying Bakura's features. Bakura closed his eyes, so Marik leaned forward and kissed each eyelid. He moved to Bakura's cheeks, then forehead, then nose. Bakura reached out and slid his palm against Marik's hip.

Bakura opened his eyes. "Marik? Are you not wearing any pants?"

Marik looked down. His blanket covered his lower half, hiding everything from the navel down. "No. I sleep naked."

"Yes, but didn't you suspect I'd sneak in?"

Marik grinned. "Well, like you said, I did lock the door."

Bakura exhaled a breathy gust of air. He pressed Marik's shoulders back until Marik lay on his back against the mattress. Bakura's lips kneaded against Marik's belly. With a deft tug, Bakura pulled the sheet away from Marik's lower half. His kisses bee-lined towards Marik's forming erection, and Marik gasped. He lifted his hips, bringing his body closer to Bakura's mouth. The thief attacked Marik's cock with greedy, wet kisses. Each one made the breath hitch in Marik's throat. He rolled his eyes back into his head as Bakura began to suck.

"Yes. Oh Bakura, yes."

Marik's voice encouraged Bakura. He dipped his head lower, feeling Marik's tip jab against the back of his throat. Bakura moved faster. His own erection brushed against Marik's leg and, even though the pair of sweats Rishid lent him to sleep in, the contact made the thief moan.

"Cu-could, ah, would you touch my balls?" Marik asked, breathless, voice timid.

Bakura's free hand slid straight to where Marik wanted to be touched, and Marik moaned loudly.

It made Bakura pull back. "Shhh."

"What?" Marik asked, not understanding why Bakura wouldn't want to hear the sound. The sound of a loud, unbound moan, even though it belonged to himself, was erotic and brought Marik closer to the edge. "Bakura, please don't stop."

"You fool, your siblings are going to be knocking on the door and asking if you're okay if you keep going on like that."

Marik realized, in a dim way, that his sounds could be misinterpreted as pained, and zombies tended to moan as well. Marik nodded, unable to do more. "Please, Bakura . . ."

With a doggish grin, Bakura licked up Marik's shaft, avoiding Marik's oversensitive head. He admired the sight of Marik's erection. The bruised color of the tip, the pearl of pre-cum swelling in the center, the way Marik's length stretched past his loose foreskin. Bakura's voice turned husky and low. "Do you want to cum?"

Marik shook his head in agreement, eyes cinched shut. Bakura licked his lips, sucked the pre-cum off of Marik's flesh, and slid his lips down Marik's length. He started soft, deliberate, and slow, but allowed his head to bob faster after a moment of teasing. Marik thrust his hips in time with Bakura's mouth. His breathing grew loud. He started moaning again, but this time Marik shoved a pillow over his face to mute his noises. Bakura rolled Marik's balls in his palm.

Bakura felt Marik's heartbeat coursing through the veins in his shaft, and it warned Bakura to pull back an inch so he didn't choke when Marik came. After he swallowed, Bakura sighed over Marik's erection. "I've wanted to do that for so long."

Marik looked at Bakura. The thief's stormy eyes stayed half lidded; his eyelashes were white as lightning bolts. The thief breathed through his mouth, lips plump and dark from the friction of rubbing against Marik's skin. The white hair raged around Bakura's tanned face – more shadow than face in the weak light of the two flax-oil lamps Marik kept in his bedroom to ward off the dark.

Marik swallowed, lost in the thrill of his climax and the image of Bakura. "How long?"

Bakura smirked, looking up. "Since the aquarium when I saw you get off your bike." Bakura shifted his gaze, still sleepy with desire, but concentrated and seductive. "I wanted to be that motorcycle with your legs wrapped around me instead."

"I didn't know," Marik whispered. He reached for Bakura, pulling the other man higher on the bed until they lay together on the mattress. They lay on their sides in order to stare at one another. "At first I thought you were only helping me because I'd threaten you."

Bakura tucked Marik's flame-yellow hair behind his ear. "You were never a threat to me. I worked with you because of convenience, not fear."

"I know that now." Marik chuckled. "But you know how I was back then."

"Yeah, you were a spoiled brat."

"I was thinking I was more of a sociopath and a megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur, but I guess spoiled brat also works."

Marik flicked his finger against one of Bakura's dark nipples. Bakura gasped at the touch. Marik eyed the bulge protruding from Bakura's sweat pants and smiled. It was his turn to push Bakura flat on his back.

A grin brightened Marik's face. "At least I'm not as selfish as I used to be."

With that he dragged his tongue across Bakura's nipple. Bakura did his best to stifle a cry, but most of it echoed throughout the room. Marik meandered down Bakura's chest and stomach, paying particular attention to the area between Bakura's navel and hip bones.

"Oh gods," Bakura whispered, his breath erratic. "Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, Marik."

Marik's own breathing sped up at the soft rapture in Bakura's voice. "Damn, Bakura, I haven't even gotten your pants off yet."

"You don't understand." Bakura gasped as Marik kissed his waistline. "Three thousand years dead . . . and today alive."

Marik's breath caught in his throat as he thought about Bakura's words. He smiled. "Then you better grab that pillow and cover your mouth, because I'm about to get to the good part."

Bakura obeyed without argument, burying his face into Marik's pillow as Marik pulled the sweatpants from his waist. Marik blew hot air against Bakura's tip and watched as Bakura twitched in anticipation. Next, he graced his bottom lip up Bakura's shaft, ending with a soft kiss to Bakura's head. Bakura near squealed into the pillow.

Marik started slow, sliding his lips up and down Bakura's shaft, only stopping to swirl his tongue around the taut flesh before dipping his head down again. Bakura groaned. He pulled the pillow away long enough to gasp for air, and then smothered himself again to keep from making too much noise. It only helped so much, and the more Bakura called out, the deeper Marik went. When Bakura couldn't take it anymore, he released the pillow and twisted his fingers into Marik's hair, holding his breath to prevent more sounds as he came.

When Marik rose again to lay beside Bakura, his violet eyes gleamed in the lamplight as he stared at the thief. Bakura smiled, tracing his finger along Marik's bottom lip. Marik sighed, reaching out so he could mimic the action on Bakura. Their fingers danced across their faces, as if both men wanted to figure out everything that had happened since the last time they saw each other by touching the curves of their features.

"You're . . . different. You're not angry anymore."

Bakura laughed. "I could say the same about you."

"Well, yeah, but you know why I changed." Marik studied Bakura's face.

Bakura raked his fingers through Marik's hair. "In Aaru, the fields of wheat are as golden as your hair, and I've walked through those fields while speaking with my father, and his father, and his father before him. I've splashed in rivers with cousins I remembered and ones that died before I was born. I've danced with my mother, and her mother, and her mother before her. I've played sennet and mehen with ancestors I only heard of in village legends." He lifted an eyebrow upward. "I was angry because Pharaoh stole my family from me, but how could I stay angry after the gods returned everything I thought I lost and more besides? It didn't feel like ten years. It felt like I'd always been there."

Marik didn't cry, but his eyes looked like glass. "Good . . . I'm glad. You deserved to find some peace. I thought . . ." Marik blinked and a tear tickled his cheek.

Bakura caught it with his fingernail and kissed it away. "What? Did you think Ammit would devour my soul? It was easy to balance my heart against Ma'at's feather."

Marik shook his head no. "I thought you were trapped in the Shadows. In the Ring."

"Once the Pharaoh crossed over, we all crossed over. Me, my village, and all the souls trapped in stone tablets."

Marik frowned. "I forget those slabs were made from trapping _kas_ into stone. It's easy to forget when you're playing a game with squares of paper."

"Using the Items they trapped the soul of anyone they thought of as _evil_." Bakura gave a bitter snort. "Those foolish priests, some of them knew how the Items were created. They should have known no good could come from something made out of slaughter, but they wanted the power."

"Was it hard? To see those priests again in the afterlife?"

"No. I never saw any of them. Space is as odd as time in Paradise. You think of someone and you can find them." He shrugged. "But if you don't want to find someone then you don't."

"Probably for the best." Marik's hands finally slipped away from Bakura's face. "Otherwise the gods would have had to deal with you and the Pharaoh fighting for all eternity." He closed his eyes, sinking his head into the mattress, his pillow somewhere behind him.

Bakura shook Marik's shoulder. "Hey, who told you to go to sleep?"

Marik cracked an eye open. "You wore me out."

The comment put a proud grin on Bakura's face. "Too bad, Ishtar. I'm not done talking to you."

Marik smirked and closed his eyes again. "Talk all you want. If I can sleep through Rishid's snoring, then I can sleep through your rambling."

Bakura pinched Marik's side.

"Ow!" Marik smacked Bakura's shoulder. "Stop it, Bakura."

"Then stop being an asshole, Marik."

Marik gave a little growl and then curled his face against Bakura's chest. "Fine. I'm awake now. What are we talking about?"

Bakura held both Marik's shoulders for a moment while thinking. He slid his palms past Marik's shoulders until they rested against Marik's back. Marik's breath hitched on an inhale and then shuddered on an exhale. He wrapped his own arms around Bakura, his fingers playing with the smooth curves of Bakura's shoulder blades.

Bakura whispered in Marik's ear. "I don't care. I just wanted to fall asleep to the sound of your voice."

"Selfish bastard, keeping me awake so you can fall asleep first." Even with Marik's face hidden against Bakura's chest, Bakura knew the tomb-keeper smiled.

* * *

When Bakura woke up, he stretched and scratched his scalp and looked around the room to remember where he was. He sat up, turning his head and watching Marik sleep.

The other male jerked his eyes open, and sucked in a startled breath. He looked around a moment, saw Bakura, saw the flax-lamp behind Bakura, and calmed down.

"What?" Bakura asked.

"Nothing," Marik muttered.

Bakura touched the top of Marik's hand. "Tell me."

Marik looked at their hands. "I worry that the lamps will go out at night. Sometimes they do, and it's dark in this cabin without them." Marik frowned at their sheets. "I miss electricity."

Bakura glanced at the lamp behind him, and then back to Marik. "If they ever go out at night, I'll light them again before you wake up, okay?"

Marik's eyes shot to Bakura. The tomb-keeper's mouth hung ajar, as if he couldn't breathe. "That . . . means a lot."

Bakura broke the emotional-tension by looking around the bed. "Where the hell did you throw my pants, Marik?"

"Couldn't tell you." Marik smiled. "My mind was focused elsewhere."

Bakura stood up and walked around the bed until he found them, slipping them on and tying the string to keep them in place. He slipped his crimson robe on his shoulders in order to cover himself a little better. Bakura flashed Marik a wide grin, the irony apparent on his face before he said a word. "Gee, I hope your sister makes us pancakes for breakfast."

Marik crawled out of bed and dressed as well. "If we're lucky, there's some canned tomato soup left."

They walked down the hall and towards the galley side by side, pushing each other off balance and grinning as they went along.

The sound of Ishizu and Rishid's voices bounced down the hall from the kitchen. Both Bakura and Marik stopped near the entrance to listen to the heated conversation coming from the other room.

"It's . . . it's just not our way, Rishid."

"Ishizu, by _our way_ you mean the tomb-keepers' way, and we both know that Marik's never held to those traditions."

"Maybe, well maybe he's just confused."

They heard Rishid sigh, or rather felt the pause in the conversation. "No, Ishizu. He's not confused. He's always been like that."

"How could you be so sure?"

"Sister, it's been obvious ever since he was four. Remember? He'd sneak into your room and play with your dolls."

"That doesn't prove anything. He was little."

"True, that alone doesn't prove anything, but when he played with them, it was always a male doll that _rescued_ him and took him outside."

At the mention of dolls, Marik moved to interrupt them, but Bakura held Marik back and covered Marik's mouth with a hand.

"Okay, fine," Ishizu conceded. "Fine. I can accept that. I really just want Marik to be happy – but the thief? Why him? Can't it be anybody but him?"

Marik squirmed until he was free and barged into the kitchen.

Her eyes grew wide when she saw them. "Marik?"

"Sorry. I overheard you."

Ishizu stopped pacing the length of the galley and sank into a kitchen chair. "How much?"

"As far back as maybe I'm confused."

"I . . . I was caught off guard and didn't respond well." Ishizu sighed, folding her hands into her lap. "Marik, you need to understand that I've always accepted you just how you are, and I appreciate everything Bakura did for us yesterday . . . it's simply that . . ."

She looked at Rishid, as if he would save her, but he only turned back to the sink where he cleaned and de-boned the two fish he'd caught for their breakfast.

Bakura stood in the doorway. He snorted, bitter although he understood her. "It's simply that you want better for your brother than a thief." Bakura turned around and walked away.

* * *

As soon as Bakura walked away, Marik chased after him. Ishizu stood. She glanced at Rishid again. This time, he looked over his shoulder. "Go ahead and check on him. I'll stay here and finish cooking breakfast."

Ishizu sighed and walked down the hallway. She knocked on Marik's door first, but didn't get an answer, so she went onto the deck. She felt horrible. She hadn't meant for Marik to hear anything she said; she was merely venting out her thoughts to Rishid as she processed everything. The more she replayed the conversation in her mind, the more foolish she felt. Marik told both she and Rishid how Bakura had stopped Marik's darker self from killing Rishid and how he even destroyed himself in a Shadow Game trying to help Marik. Then there was the day before . . . Bakura saved Marik and Rishid from a horde and his singing brought Ishizu back from her panic attack. Why had she been upset by the idea of them together? She felt like a fool.

Nevertheless, something nagged at her. Some old nuance from her time serving the Pharaoh that made her feel leery against the thief despite her instincts telling her to trust him. As she left the cabin, Ishizu stopped to brace herself against a strong wind blowing at their boat. She held her braid against her shoulder, wisps of loose hair danced around her face despite her efforts to keep everything in place. Above, the clouds looked like steel, gray and heavy.

She heard arguing in the wind. Ishizu turned her head and on the other end of the ship saw her brother bickering with the thief – something about dolls and tomb-thieves and fairy-tales. Ishizu shivered as Bakura's scarlet cloak bloomed in the wind, reminding her of the spraying blood of the two men she'd killed. Bakura started laughing and then Marik joined him. Her brother reached for the thief and kissed him, and Ishizu turned her head away, not wanting to interfere. She waited a moment before looking back. She intended on apologizing to both of them and leaving them alone, but what she saw stopped her.

Bakura buried his face in Marik's hair as Marik rested his face against Bakura's shoulder. They held each other gently, and that alone might have been enough to dispel any lingering doubts Ishizu had, but something else she saw made it altogether impossible for her to ever again disapprove of the thief and her brother being together.

Marik wore a tank-top, and Bakura slipped one hand beneath the hem to rub small circles on Marik's lower back, not in lust but as a comforting gesture. The thief's other hand traced the wing-tip on Marik's shoulder. Both looked peaceful in each other's arms, so much so that Ishizu found herself wiping a tear out of her eye. Marik never allowed anyone to touch (or even look at) his back. No one, not even Rishid. The fact that Bakura could . . .

Ishizu found herself smiling as she sighed and snuck back into the cabin.


	5. Chapter 4

*****AN: I have recurring zombie nightmares where society reforms on the roofs of the buildings. Usually, people sleep in hammocks that they can pull up high enough that even if the zombies somehow got to where people slept, they couldn't kill people in their sleep because they're both hidden and out of reach. So the idea for Market Town came from my nightmares.**

 **Disclaimer: Deathshipping (lemon set up, the actual lemon will be in the next chapter).*****

* * *

Ryo looked up the steps to the museum. Most of his memories of the museum were with his father, and even now thinking of that hurt, but he needed a better weapon and the museum had plenty of exhibits about war and battles. Ryo sighed and began walking up the concrete steps. It wasn't safe. During the days of plague the museum – under the supervision of Ryo's father – converted itself to a shelter for the sick that couldn't reach the hospital. When the sick began to die, and the dead began to rise, everyone alive fled, but the walking corpses remained. In order to reach the third floor that held the weapons Ryo wanted, he'd have to fight his way through the first floor.

Part of Ryo's mind screamed his plan was suicidal, but the last two years of using baseball bats and hardware store machetes to kill the undead had been equally suicidal. Not only did it take multiple hits for Ryo to kill each zombie – sometimes as many as ten blows with a bat – but each time a bat shattered, and each time a blade broke from the handle in the middle of a battle, Ryo almost died. Also, as the months passed, even inferior weapons became hard to find as the remaining survivors scavenged for anything they could find to stay alive another day.

His current weapon, a hammer, worked better than anything else he'd managed to find; however, one had to get uncomfortably close to the undead to use it.

Ryo stopped before opening the door, staring at the brass handles as if they were tombstones. In the distance, Ryo heard laughter and smelt smoke from a cooking fire. He looked to the west. There, in the old slums of Domino, a large number of survivors had banded together. They used planks to make wooden bridges from rooftop to rooftop and created an impromptu village called Market Town. Other survivors often went their to trade goods, gather information, or post messages in the town square. Ryo went once, but so many people gathered together made him nervous. Social groups formed bonds and became close to each other, and part of Ryo missed that closeness, but more people also attracted more undead. Ryo couldn't bare the thought of losing anymore loved ones. He didn't want to form new relationships. What was the point? They'd die, or he'd die. In the end there was only grief.

Ryo sighed, turned on the flashlight he had clipped to his belt, and opened the door. Perhaps his plan was foolish, but it wasn't unorganized. He'd half grown up in museums, and knew the one in Domino as well as any diorama he'd ever built – in fact, the diorama the Spirit of the Ring used for his last game still sat in the Egyptian exhibit. Ryo knew he couldn't fight every single cadaver in the museum, but didn't intend to.

He ran for the center of the foyer. Whenever a shadow walked towards him, Ryo would hit their skulls as hard as he could. Some of them fell, most only staggered backwards. Ryo continued to run until he reached the center of the room. A large, twisted, abstract sculpture stood in the center of the mob. Ryo fought his way to it and then started to climb. The corpses didn't have the same dexterity as the living. They struggled up stairs but couldn't manage ladders . . . or twisted sculptures.

Once Ryo made it to the top, he rested, laughing like a mad man for having survived the first phase of his plan. He shone his flashlight towards the balcony that lead to the second floor of the museum. Suspended from wires hung other sculptures. Ryo always thought of them as hideous, monstrous things. Each one looked like it curled in on itself from some unspeakable agony, but today they were beautiful. Michelangelo never carved anything half so lovely as the statues hanging from the ceiling because they were Ryo's ticket to surviving.

He leapt, catching the nearest statue and swinging in the air as he scrambled on top of the undefinable shape. He waited for the statue to stop swinging. Looking down, the corpses all had their hands stretching upwards like small children wanting to be picked up. They also had their mouths opened and that reminded Ryo of baby birds wanting to be fed – he didn't care for the metaphor, especially since birds were often carnivorous.

He jumped to the next sculpture. The ceiling groaned under his weight but the wires held. Ryo panted, catching his breath again as he waited for the swinging motion to stop, thankful that the statues were spaced close together. He reached the fourth and fifth statues without incident. All that remained was the balcony itself. Ryo studied his next jump. In the flashlight beam he saw shadows shambling towards him.

"At least you guys are walking zombies and not running zombies . . . then you'd just look stupid." Ryo told the corpses below him. "I'd take Romero zombies over Resident Evil 4 zombies any day of the week."

That sane voice in the back of his mind – the one that thought his plan was suicidal – warned Ryo against talking to the dead. He'd found himself doing it more and more as the months passed by. There was no one else to talk to.

Ryo made his last jump, clotheslining himself against the balcony rail, but able to hold on and swing himself onto the second floor. Ryo gave himself five seconds to catch his breath before jumping to his feet and pulling out the hammer from a loop on his jeans. The first shambler reached out for Ryo. He didn't bother hitting it. He merely sidestepped and pushed the dead body over the balcony. He continued along the balcony, stunning zombies with a quick hit to the head and then throwing them over. The stairs were inclosed in a fire-safe hall with heavy doors. Once Ryo reached the stairwell, he shouldn't have to worry about being chased. Until then, he continued to toss zombies to the first floor. It took a lot to reach the brain, two or even three hits. Each swing made Ryo's arms a little more tired, so it was better to conserve hits. Years of movies and video games really hadn't prepared Ryo for that, and he wasn't physically strong enough to strike deathblows unless his life depended on it – gods bless adrenaline.

An orchestra of moans made Ryo stop dead in his tracks. He looked ahead, near the stairwell where he needed to be, and saw a dozen aimless corpses shifting his way.

"Oh fuck my life." Ryo's hand tightened around the handle of his hammer.

Another bad habit – not only did he talk to the zombies, but he swore at them. He'd never cursed living people (and the Spirit of the Ring didn't count as living because he'd been a spirit).

Ryo backed up. If he could space them out, he could fight them in ones or twos and toss them over the railing as he had with all the others; however, that plan ended when more groans came from behind.

"Fuck!" Ryo screamed. "Why do you assholes always cluster like this? Once – _once_ – I'd like to go on a salvage trip without bleeding."

Ryo dashed to the nearest corpse, swinging for all he was worth. The skull beneath his hammer head caved, and the zombie dropped. That was unusual. The corpse must have been damaged somehow beforehand. His next kill was harder. Hit, after hit, after hit, the damn thing would stumble back and lurch forward again before Ryo could catch his breath. The third was easier, but by that time enough zombies were within reach that Ryo couldn't focus on killing them. He settled for trying to stun them, and dodging out of the way to attack another before it could bite.

He was going to die.

The thought throbbed in Ryo's chest with his panicking heartbeat. He knew his quest was a death wish, but he didn't think he'd _actually die_. Every day was a death wish in the zombie apocalypse, but he'd kept his promise to his father, day after day, and lived.

Something snapped in Ryo's mind. He keened. Maybe for the loss of his father, maybe for the loss of the world, maybe to mourn his upcoming death, Ryo didn't know. He swung and dodged and swung and screamed until nothing made sense anymore.

Then he heard laughing. He thought it was his laughter – he was laughing, laughing like a maniac about to die. But someone else was there with a more boisterous, more maniacal laughter that made Ryo's laugh sound like the cooing of a white dove.

Then his flashlight caught gold hair and blood-slick steel. It was like an old, ravenous god returned to earth for nothing more than the glory of battle. Corpses dropped before him like grass before the scythe. He wielded two kukris, chopping into human skulls easy as coconuts. Then Ryo recognized him and shivered.

"Fuck yes this is fun!" he cheered and cracked through skull after skull.

The last corpse fell to the floor. Congealed blood coated the not-quite-stranger like strawberry jam. He stopped and stared at Ryo for a moment. "Do I know you? You look familiar."

"I can't die yet," Ryo whispered, and he wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or Marik's darker half.

The doppelganger tilted his head. "Bakura? You're Ryo Bakura, right?"

Ryo screamed and swung at the psychopath's jaw.

* * *

Kek blocked the hammer with one of his kukris. He thought he guessed wrong. The man in front of him couldn't be Ryo Bakura – that boy had been meek and polite. The person attacking him was a hardened fighter. He smelt of killing, old blood, sweat, stress hormones – a good smell. Kek enjoyed the scent of him and enjoyed watching his attacks. Kek's attacker knew Kek was alive, not dead, so he didn't waste energy on head shots. He aimed for joints, or soft areas. Kek blocked each blow, savoring the battle.

When the person who looked like Ryo dropped to his knees in exhaustion, Kek crouched beside him. "That was fun. I like when people fight back. It gets old when they cry and beg all the time. So . . . are you Ryo Bakura or someone else?"

"Do I look that different? That you barely recognize me? I remember you." He stayed on his knees, staring at the filth on the floor spilled from long-dead bodies.

"Last time I saw you – you were on the ground, bleeding and begging Yugi for help. Ah, but it was the Pharaoh and not Yugi, so the stupid Spirit in the Ring was the one who ended up saving you." Kek laughed. "Marik was really pissed at him for that."

Ryo shook; his hands balled into fists. He lunged at Kek. Kek braced himself for an attack, but Ryo only held Kek's shoulders and cried into his chest.

"I'm so tired!" he sobbed. "When you kill me, make sure I don't come back. Do that much at least."

Kek's stomach felt funny as Ryo held him. That delicious scent of killing mixed with Ryo's natural body musk along with the fierce heat of Ryo's tears, it all mixed together in Kek's stomach and formed butterflies. Ryo didn't even beg for his life. Kek found himself respecting Ryo for that. He cupped Ryo's chin and lifted up his face. "I'm not going to kill you."

"W-why not?" He looked confused. Streaks of fever burned across his cheeks and his eyes gleamed with tears and delirium.

"Isis brought me back to kill the dead, not the living, and if I fuck up I'm going straight to Ammit without being judged."

"Oh," Ryo said it like Kek explained it was Monday, and then he fainted.

Kek caught Ryo and scooped him up. He wasn't sure why he did it, but Kek carried Ryo to the fourth floor where several offices faced each other down a long, narrow hallway. Isis brought him back in the museum – in the Egyptian exhibit. He'd found nothing of interest on the fourth floor, but he managed to kill several walking corpses on the third. After Kek saw a weapon display with two oiled kukris he started to have fun.

Now he used old coats to build a nest inside a corner office with a large window. He lay Ryo down in the nest of coats and searched the other rooms for food and water. He managed to find three bottles of water stashed in desks, a bottle of aspirin, and one, large chocolate bar. He didn't know how to make Ryo take the aspirin while unconscious, so he settled for taking a handkerchief from one of the coat pockets and coating it with enough water to bathe Ryo's scalding face.

Through the light of the window, Kek realized Ryo had several scars marking his face. One crossed the bridge of Ryo's nose. Three thin lines scored along Ryo's left temple, and a long, thick gash ran along Ryo's right jawbone. Kek touched the scars with the pads of his fingers. Then he reached for his own back. His fingers only met smooth, new skin. Isis had put him in a unmarked body, a body all his own. He was happy, that he had his own, personal body, but he somehow felt wrong without the scars on his back. He'd earned them. All the fear, all the pain Marik couldn't handle, had become Kek, and he'd been the one that endured the initiation. Without his scars, Kek felt lost.

He caressed Ryo's face with even more reverence. As he did so, he noticed Ryo's face felt too hot, his fever too high. Kek looked around as if he'd see something that would help him. There was nothing but useless books, dusty filing cabinets, and long-dead computers. Kek looked back down at Ryo. He realized that Ryo wore two, long-sleeved shirts and a vest all hand-quilted together to form a rudimentary armor to prevent bites. It looked hot and Kek thought perhaps without it, Ryo's body temperature would decrease. He unbuttoned the shirt and peeled it from Ryo's torso. When he saw Ryo's chest, he gasped. Additional scars marred Ryo's entire body.

He remembered the five chest scars from the Ring, and the scar on his arm that the Spirit gave him in order to help Marik, but everything else was new. Kek added more water to his handkerchief and dabbed it across Ryo's burning chest, examining each scar as he went along. There was no pattern or method to the gashes that ripped across Ryo's body, simply jagged tear after jagged tear of raised flesh above eggshell white skin.

Then he noticed the bite marks.

Kek held Ryo's arm. He touched the arches of dots that marked Ryo's bicep, shoulder, side, and forearm.

"I should be dead," Ryo whispered.

Kek jerked his head up and saw Ryo looking at him with fever-glazed eyes. "I've seen it happen to others. You get bit. You turn. But I didn't. Six bites altogether, but I never changed."

"Do you know why?"

"In the beginning everyone was sick, so we all assumed it was a virus. Maybe I have a natural resistance."

"You don't look like you believe that."

"I think the illness, and the zombies, came from some form of Shadow Magic. _That's_ why I don't turn if I'm bit. I had the Ring." He forced himself into a sitting position. Kek supported Ryo's back to keep him upright. Ryo looked at him again. "Why are you helping me?"

"I told you," Kek snapped. "Isis forbid me from killing living people."

"You could have left me on the ground."

Kek huffed. What Ryo said was true. He grabbed the aspirin. "Here. Take this. It will bring down your fever."

Ryo grabbed Kek's wrist holding the aspirin. "Why are you helping me?"

The answer poured from Kek's mouth before he could stop it. "Because I like how you fight, and how you didn't beg for your life. I like the smell of blood on you." Kek looked away. "I like your scars."

Ryo accepted the aspirin, swallowing three and washing the pills down with water. "Yours are beautiful. Mine are ugly."

"They're not ugly." Kek scowled. He reached out and traced several of the deeper gashes. "They're proof of what you've been through." His scowl dropped into a frown. "Mine are gone. The gods gave me a heart and a body, but they stole my past."

Ryo's eyes grew empathetic. "I'm sorry."

Kek returned the wet cloth to Ryo's skin. "Are you hungry? I found a chocolate bar."

"I'm too dizzy to eat."

"Here." Kek pressed the bottle of water to Ryo's lips. Ryo closed his eyes and drank, sighing afterward. Kek stared at Ryo's mouth. He realized he wanted to taste it, wanted it as bad as he'd wanted to eat the _ib_ beating in Isis' hands. Again, before he could think about it, Kek leaned forward and bit Ryo's bottom lip. A soft bite, not the flesh-renting bite of a zombie. Kek kept his teeth firm, but gentle against Ryo's skin. He licked Ryo's bottom lip before releasing his teeth and then used his lips to pull at Ryo's mouth.

"Why did you do that?" Ryo asked after Kek pulled away.

"I . . ." Kek blinked, trying to think, but instinct drowned out his thoughts. He wanted – he craved – Ryo. He wanted to bite him, to scratch him, to make him scream, but he wanted to do it all in a way that would make Ryo beg for more. He wanted violence, but not quite violence. He wanted something that went beyond lust, but not as tender as love.

"Passion," Kek whispered, feeling like Isis just put another piece back into the broken vessel she'd shown him in the afterlife.

"What?" Ryo asked.

Kek jerked away an inch. He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. "Nothing."

"Don't kiss me." Ryo closed his eyes. "I don't want to get close to you."

"Oh." Kek scratched his head, feeling rejected. "Because I tried to kill your friends?"

Ryo looked shocked. "No. Because if we get close, it'll hurt when one of us dies."

The statement sounded wrong from Ryo's mouth. It made Kek feel bad in a way he couldn't describe – a sort of heavy, mucky feeling in his chest that made breathing harder. He grabbed Ryo's shoulders, looking into his fevered face. "Ryo? Where are your friends? Why are you alone?"

Ryo shook his head, frowning. "I lost them at the very beginning. We got separated and they left me behind." Ryo pushed Kek's arms away. "It hurt, back then. I felt like everyone abandoned me." His shoulders shook. Ryo lowered his head so Kek couldn't see his face and balled his hands into fists. "But then my dad . . . he found me. He'd been looking for me." Ryo held his breath, but the sobs came regardless. He curled into himself to try and escape his own reaction, but the tears wouldn't stop.

Kek grabbed Ryo and pressed him to Kek's chest. He had to. _He had to._ Because it was the only way to alleviate the heaviness in his own chest. Ryo pushed away, but Kek wouldn't let go. After a moment of struggling, Ryo's resistance collapsed. He sank deeper into Kek's body, pressing his hands against Kek's chest for support.

"I didn't think he cared." Ryo continued between sobs. "After my mother and sister died, he only worked. He worked, and he hardly ever spoke to me. Even when people got sick – in the beginning, before the dead came back – he was more concerned about taking care of them than checking up on me." Ryo wiped the tears away with an arm, calmer. "But when the dead came back, I was the first person he searched for. We traveled together for awhile. It was weird. The world was ending, but I was happy because I had my dad back."

Ryo's tears returned. Not quiet sobs, but hard, broken wails. They tore at his face, crinkling it into a shattered expression. He pulled away from Kek again, covering his face with both hands. "He died protecting me. He turned. I bashed his skull in with a statue."

Kek wasn't sure what he'd expected to hear, but it wasn't that. Even through his keening, Ryo had spoken the words far too casually. _I bashed his skull in with a statue._ He could have asked the time, or the day of the week, or commented on how many cobwebs had built up in the corner of the office they sat in, that's how conversational he spoke about it.

Something clicked in Kek's chest when he heard the confession. _I bashed his skull in with a statue._ It was the same way Kek would have said _I carved the skin off of his back with the Rod._ Matter-of-fact. Only it wasn't the same, not at all, because Ryo's father was good. Ryo's father died because he tried to save his son. Marik's father died because he tried to kill his son with a knife. Something about it was horribly wrong – having to kill a good father. Bad enough to kill a horrible father, but one you loved? That was worse.

Kek's eyes burned, and his chest hurt. He grabbed Ryo again, but this time he was seeking comfort as much as he was providing it. He'd never cried before. Marik had, but not him. The tears burned his eyes and cheeks. He never expected sadness to be such a hot, powerful emotion. He realized it was almost the same as anger, only instead of pushing the feelings outward, you let them reflect back into yourself.

His crying made Ryo stop his own tears. He looked up at Kek, blinking shocked, carob eyes. "You're crying?"

Kek reached for his own face and touched the burning tears on his cheeks. "They're hot," he murmured, not knowing what he should say.

Ryo's expression changed. The hardness that made him almost unrecognizable before melted away, and transformed him back into the person he used to be. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry too."

Ryo grabbed Kek's cheeks and began kissing the tears off of Kek's face. Each soft flutter of Ryo's lips made the breath hitch in Kek's lungs. Kek felt fevered himself. Dizziness verging on euphoria made everything around Kek spin out of control. Before he knew what to do, Ryo's lips latched on to his, and Kek's tongue traced Ryo's bottom lip for a second time. Kissing felt so good it hurt, and all Kek could think was, _I'm a broken vessel._

His fingers reached to the back of Ryo's hair. He found the tie keeping Ryo's white locks bound out of his face. He pulled at the binding and released Ryo's hair. Kek remembered white ribbon's that fell down to his elbows, but now Ryo's hair settled about chin-length. Kek combed the tangles out with his fingers; Ryo moaned.

Kek realized he wasn't crying anymore, but he felt better for having released the emotion in a physical form. Kissing was similar, releasing an emotion through physical means, but Kek wasn't sure what emotion. _Need_ hadn't been on the list of emotions that Isis spoke as she put the vase back together, but Kek needed to touch Ryo's hair. He needed to close his eyes and moan when Ryo bit Kek's bottom lip as payback for when Kek first kissed him. He needed Ryo.

"It's been years . . . almost two years, since I touched another living body. Not even a handshake." Ryo slipped his slender fingers below Kek's shirt and swirled his fingertips along the contours of Kek's abdomen. "I don't want to stop. I want to touch you."

Every nerve in Kek's body screamed _yes_ as Ryo explored Kek's brown, toast-colored skin, but he pulled back an inch. "I can't fall in love," Kek whispered. "I . . . can't."

"Good." Ryo's chuckle was both sad and relieved. "Good. That means you'll never die protecting me. I don't want love – I don't, I don't – I-I just want to touch you."

Kek wondered if they were both lying, but he couldn't think on it for long because Ryo's fingers climbed from his abs to his chest and their words didn't matter anymore – only their actions. "Touch me," Kek whispered.

Ryo stripped the shirt from Kek's body. His fingers devoured Kek's smooth skin. Everywhere Ryo's fingers touched, his lips followed. Ryo moaned as his tongue trailed up Kek's throat. Kek gasped, panting hard as he clung to Ryo's shoulders.

"G-gods, Ryo."

Ryo nipped and the junction of Kek's throat and collarbone.

" _Gods_!"

"Shhh. They'll hear you."

"I've cleared the top three floors and there's several doors between us and the main floor."

"Your voice could carry through the vents."

"Stop." Kek squeezed Ryo's shoulders tighter and stared at him. "Stop being afraid. I'm going to kill them all. That's why I'm here."

Ryo smiled. The blush of his fever mingled with the blush of his desire and gave him a wild, untamed look. "Sounds fun. Need help?"

"Of course I don't need help. I love killing things." He said the first words that came to mind, and then kicked himself internally once he realized what Ryo was offering. He let go of Ryo and scratched the back of his golden mess of hair. "But it is fun, so . . . you can come with me – if you want. Plenty of corpses to go around, I suppose."

Ryo laughed. It was a good sound, and Kek found himself smiling from hearing it. Their laughter died away leaving a comfortable silence. They looked at each other, Ryo's eyes warm as two ginger snaps and Kek's eyes vibrant as two heather-blossoms. They dove at each other at the same time, sucking, and kissing, and touching.

Ryo pulled away and searched his knapsack. He handed a plastic container to Kek. "Here."

Kek stared at the old, faded label. "Vaseline?"

"Yeah, it makes smaller cuts stop bleeding, but we could use it for . . ." Ryo stopped, looking shy. "You know."

Kek frowned. He didn't know.

Ryo leaned back on his forearms and spread his legs wide to display himself before Kek. Even with blue jeans on, the scene made Kek's erection twitch in his pants.

Kek licked his lips, his mouth dry. "I . . . I've never – I haven't. Um, I, uh. I . . ."

Ryo giggled. He looked cute when he giggled, but it made him no less errotic as he lay spread out and waiting. "We have all night for you to figure it out. I'd lead, but I'm still kinda dizzy."

Kek took the wet cloth and pressed it back to Ryo's forehead. Ryo smacked it away and pulled Kek down so that their mouths almost overlapped. "I don't want that. I want you."

"But your fever . . ."

"I'll live." Ryo reached for Kek's zipper.


	6. Chapter 5

*****Disclaimer: Deathshipping Lemon. Peachshipping Fluff.*****

 *****MooksMookin drew some fanart for this fic. If you want to check it out you can find her on Deviant Art as ChronicCreation. There's one of Ryo called "Left Alone" and one of the first time Marik sees Bakura called "Then I Saw His Face" - Thanks for drawing them, Mooks!*****

* * *

Deft with a blade, Kek found his fingers clumsy and unresponsive when it came to love. He knelt in front of Ryo, both of them naked. A thick coating of Vaseline covered his fingers, and he worked them into Ryo's body.

" _Ah,_ " Ryo hissed, exhaling.

Kek froze, unsure and wondering if he'd hurt Ryo.

Ryo gave him a sheepish grin. "It's okay. It just takes a moment. Go ahead."

Kek frowned and moved his fingers. Ryo felt warm and soft around Kek's digits. He wiggled them a bit, trying to get an imagery sense of Ryo's insides based on touch alone. The pads of his fingers flicked up and grazed a swollen, spongy mound inside of Ryo's body.

" _Ah_!" Ryo cried out again, only louder.

Kek froze again, eyes jumping up to Ryo's face. His companion looked more flushed than before. He squirmed a moment before looking back up at Kek. "That was a good sound. Keep – keep doing whatever you were doing."

A wicked grin spread over Kek's face and he went back to exploring Ryo's warmth with two fingertips. He enjoyed the experience, and he enjoyed watching Ryo wiggle his body as he adjusted, but Kek wasn't able to get another noise out of Ryo until he hit that swell of nerves with his fingers again.

" _Ah_! _Ahh_!" Ryo hiked himself into Kek's touch. "Shit. Keep doing that."

Kek's breathing sped up. Ryo's reaction excited him. He noticed his partner's erection twitching, so Kek gripped the base with his free hand and licked from base to tip.

Ryo cried out and thrust up with sharp jerks of his bony hips. Kek sealed his lips over Ryo's cock and allowed Ryo to push back into Kek's throat as Kek still rubbed his fingers against the bump of nerves that made Ryo cry out. Ryo half sat, knotting his fingers into Kek's hair so he had more leverage to move his hips.

"Oh! Oooh! Ah! Gods! Gods! I-I-ah!" Ryo pushed Kek's head away. He looked apologetic. "I-I was going to cum, but I don't want to finish yet."

Kek licked his lips, panting. He felt pleased – that he could evoke that sort of reaction just from prepping Ryo. Knowing that he was doing well made Kek less nervous. He lunged towards Ryo, pressing his tongue into Ryo's mouth. They indulged in a moment of velvety kisses while Kek coated himself with petroleum jelly.

As he lined himself up, Ryo wrapped his scrawny legs around Kek's back. Kek no longer wore scars, but he didn't mind at the moment because he wore Ryo's limbs instead. He pushed inside Ryo's body the same way Ryo had pushed inside Kek's mouth, using his hips and his abdomen muscles to control his movements.

"You're – so – warm," Kek mumbled, lost in the psychological and physiological sensations assaulting him.

"You're – so hard." Ryo echoed back to Kek. Ryo's mouth stayed open, either gasping for air or shouting in pleasure. His lips swelled, and his eyes dilated. Ryo looked crazed with desire, and Kek growled like a rabid wolf in approval.

The sunlight filtering in through the office window caught the sweat rolling down Kek's chest. Ryo reached up enough to kiss the gleaming, amber beads off of Kek's skin. Dust motes danced around them. The smells of old blood and killing that had drawn Kek to Ryo were overwhelmed by the new scents of sweat and body heat – and Kek realized the shared aroma of their skin was better than even blood.

Ryo started to stroke himself. As soon as Kek noticed, he placed his hand over Ryo's and together they brought Ryo over the edge. Ryo held his breath as he came, and then dropped down into their nest of coats and jackets. The sight of him combined with the feel of him, pushed Kek to the brink right afterward. He continued to thrust as his orgasm seized control over his entire body and then released him in an instant. Kek fell on top of Ryo.

"Gods, that was good," Kek murmured. "And I told you the corpses wouldn't bother us."

"You never know," Ryo argued. "Every time you think you're safe – you're not."

Kek held the back of Ryo's head and pressed Ryo's forehead into Kek's chest. "You're safe. Go to sleep. I'll keep watch."

Kek felt sleepy, and wanted to take a nap, but he somehow felt compelled to watch over Ryo instead.

Ryo balled his hand into a fist and hit Kek's chest. "Stop it. I don't want to be protected." Ryo sat up. "I'm not a weak, helpless, stupid little host anymore!"

Kek scowled. "You have a fever, idiot. You need to sleep."

"I'm fine now," Ryo snapped. "I'm . . ." He paused, feeling his cheeks and his forehead. "I feel great, actually. My orgasm broke my fever." Ryo sighed, some of the anger drained from his face. "Thanks."

Kek grinned, pleased that he did well enough to help Ryo break his fever. He trapped a yawn in the palm of his hand. Weariness gnawed at his mind.

Ryo chuckled. "You're the one that looks like you need to sleep."

"It has been a rather exciting first day as a normal person."

"I wouldn't go so far as to call you normal."

Kek stuck his tongue out at Ryo, but his gesture only made the paler male laugh. He looked out the window. "Look. Let me take the first watch for an hour, and then I'll wake you up and let you watch over me for an hour. It's the only compromise I'm willing to make."

Kek took Ryo's hand and kissed the knuckles on his fingers. "Deal."

Ryo blushed, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't do that. You're not suppose to fall in love with me, remember?"

Kek smiled as his eyes sank shut. "I wasn't falling in love. I was just being friendly."

"Well . . ." Ryo's voice sounded strained. "Bed-buddies don't kiss each other after sex."

* * *

Ryo paced down the hall that separated the two rows of offices. He searched each room for anything Kek missed. He pissed out one of the windows and used the damp cloth to give himself a bitch-bath before dressing back into his clothes. He ate half the chocolate and drank one of the two full bottles of water. He did everything he could think of to avoid doing what he wanted to do most – lie down and hold Kek.

He was angry at the blond, former alter ego. Two years on his own and Ryo'd been fine. Then a psychotic maniac from Battle City showed up to save Ryo from zombies, nurse him during a fever, fuck his figurative brains out, and then offer to guard him in his sleep like some zombie-slaying prince charming. It was a little much to accept – even in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. _It was Marik's alter ego!_ Dark expressions of anger didn't just appear a decade later with a body and soul of their own wanting to kiss one's hand, or at least they shouldn't do that.

Ryo banged his forehead against the door frame. He turned to watch Kek sleep. Kek looked so beautiful that it hurt to watch his face. Sunlight filtered through his hair, setting it on fire. Kek smiled in his sleep. Ryo found himself kneeling next to Kek despite his brain telling him not to do it.

"I guess I'm still weak," Ryo whispered. "Because you reminded me how lonely I really am." Ryo closed his eyes. "And I'm so afraid to let myself feel again." He looked at Kek again. "But I guess you can't help feeling, can you? Your heart's brand new. This is all exciting for you, I suppose."

Kek giggled, his eyelashes fluttering in REM. "The blood splatter tickles," he murmured in his sleep.

Ryo started laughing. Kek's sleep talking somehow broke the tension Ryo felt, and Ryo lay next to Kek. He kept watch, listening for the warning moans or shuffling foot steps, but he also watched Kek sleep.

After a time, Kek's eyes fluttered open. "Ryo." He smiled as he whispered Ryo's name.

Ryo felt himself blushing again. He thought he'd grown out of the embarrassing habit, but Kek drew it out of him. "There's a little water left for washing and one bottle for you to drink. I saved you half the chocolate."

"Thanks." Kek shifted to a sitting position. "I need to find a toilet."

"Toilets don't work anymore. Piss out the window."

Kek wrinkled his face, glaring out the window. "I suppose that's better than pissing on the carpet." He scratched his scalp. "It feels like longer than an hour."

"It's been three."

Kek looked confused. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Ryo shrugged. "You were dreaming. I didn't want to interrupt."

Kek looked thoughtful, and then he beamed. "I _was_ dreaming. I was surrounded by tomb-keepers, all the fathers of my father, and I had my kukris. I killed them all. I splashed in the puddles of blood and then the roof disappeared and the sun made everything glow red and gold. I had my scars, in my dream, and the wings on my back turned into real wings and I flew away." Kek's face looked soft, almost affectionate. "I've never had a dream before. They're nice." He looked at Ryo. "What do you dream about, Ryo?"

"I dreamt about zombies – before they were cool." Ryo grinned. "Now I dream about a white beast. It's always the same one. He flies to Market Town. I think he's trying to save everyone, but the buildings are burning." Ryo blinked. He normally couldn't remember his recurring nightmare, but Kek's question made Ryo think of it all at once.

Kek frowned. "I think my dreams are better. If anything burned, it'd probably be because I set it on fire."

Ryo smiled. "I'm sure you're right."

Kek pulled Ryo down. "You promised you'd sleep." Kek pressed a kiss into Ryo's lips.

Ryo frowned. "Kek."

"It's just a kiss goodnight. Don't turn it into a big deal." Kek grinned, remorseless in his actions.

Ryo couldn't hold his frown, not with Kek's face beaming down at him. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just not used to company anymore."

"You're going to help me kill the undead, right?"

Ryo nodded.

"Then get used to company, because Isis made it sound like there was a lot of wheat for me to reap."

Ryo found himself smiling. "Guess I'm stuck with you for awhile, then."

Kek kissed Ryo again, and this time Ryo pressed his lips into Kek's. He sighed when Kek broke their kiss. "You really shouldn't do stuff like that."

Kek chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, you don't want me falling in love. I get it. I told you, I can't fall in love. I'm just here to kill for Isis."

"Yes, but . . . I might fall in love with you if you don't stop kissing me."

Kek blushed. "No one's ever loved me before."

Ryo's eyes fluttered shut, the long day catching up with him. "Then you better be careful, or I will."

Sleep wrapped around Ryo's mind like a thick, down comforter. When he opened his eyes again, he saw small, white stars shining through the windowpane. Ryo sat up with a start. "It's night."

"Yeah." Kek gave Ryo a guilty look. "You let me sleep extra, so I was going to do the same for you."

"No. No." Ryo shook his head, standing up and slinging his knapsack over his shoulders. "You don't get it. There's more of them at night. Shit. Shit, we're screwed. Come on. I need to get to the third floor."

"Calm down, Ryo. I can kill anything we face."

"Ten? Twenty? I'm sure you can kill a lot, but if a proper swarm finds us you're not going to have enough arms to kill all of them."

Kek snorted. "Watch me."

Ryo scowled at Kek. "This isn't about your mass-murderer vanity, Kek. This is serious." Ryo marched down to the third floor, surprised that they didn't see any corpses on their way down.

"Why are we here?" Kek asked.

"I came here for a better weapon."

"Why not the gun store?"

"I don't like guns." Ryo searched the display cases until he saw what he wanted. "That one. I'll grab a bow as well, but that's what I really want."

Kek tilted his head at the bladed pole. "Is that a spear?"

"It's a naginata."

"Why on earth would you fight with that?" Kek laughed. "Get a katana."

Ryo snorted, taking the naginata from its case and testing her balance. "My mother knew how to fight with naginatas – her mother taught her for tradition's sake. She was going to teach Amane, but I cried when they left me out, so she gave me lessons too."

"Amane?"

Ryo touched his shirt, where his heart sat. "My little sister. She and my mom died in a car accident when I was young."

"Oh." Kek looked around the room as if he didn't know how to respond. "Why was she only going to teach your sister?"

"It's kinda thought of as a woman's weapon." Ryo chuckled. "Well, people always tease me for cooking like a woman and looking like a woman, I might as well fight like one, right?"

Kek took out his kukris. "Show me."

Ryo smiled. He stepped forward. At first, Ryo worried that he wouldn't remember much, but his katas came back to him as soon as his body started to move. Kek had two weapons, but the pole of the naginata gave Ryo an advantage in reach. That's why he'd wanted the weapon; it was designed for controlling a battle.

They sparred back and forth. Ryo felt as if Kek held back, but it didn't look like it. Each swing of his arms turned his blades into a smear of silver as they flashed towards Ryo. He held his own for awhile, but Kek managed to eventually back Ryo into a corner.

"Okay." Kek conceded after they'd sparred for about ten minutes. He panted and stared at Ryo, tucking his kukris back into their scabbards. "Holy shit, you're beautiful when you fight."

He stepped past the naginata's blade and held Ryo's face, sweeping his lips over Ryo's. Adrenaline from practicing rushed through Ryo, making the kiss sharp and intense. He licked Kek's lips, and stood on his toes to get a better reach on Kek's mouth. Ryo's mind told him to stop – _stop being crazy –_ but Ryo couldn't follow his logic while caught up in Kek's arms.

A low, paper-dry groan broke their concentration. Ryo looked towards the entrance and saw the first corpse walking towards them. Blood clotted her hair into a beaver tail and one of her eyes wasn't in its socket.

Ryo slipped into a fighting stance. "It's going to be a long night."

Kek giggled, loud, wild, and mad. "This is great! I love my new life!"

* * *

They laid side by side in a bed that once belonged to someone else – someone who hopefully wasn't walking the streets as a corpse. A single candle lit the dark room. Yugi held Anzu, combing her beautiful pecan-colored hair with his fingers. "You're better with an ax than Jonouchi and a better shot than me. I'd rather you go, honestly, but it's because you're so good that I want you to protect Shizuka."

"I know," Anzu said, "but I don't have to like it."

Yugi inhaled. Anzu smelled like her roof-top garden, earth, herbs, vegetables, and flowers. They couldn't eat flowers. She probably shouldn't grow them – save the room for more food, but Yugi had gotten her the seeds for their anniversary, and she'd brought them to life.

He kissed the tip of her chin and trailed up her jaw. "She's going to have a baby. If we don't take care of the next generation – what's the point of us trying to survive? We'd die eventually, and humanity would die with us."

"You're right." Anzu smiled. She lowered the flower-printed quilt away from their bodies and touched a hand to her stomach. She wore a thin, worn spaghetti strapped tank top to bed, almost translucent with use, and cotton panties. "Sometimes I think . . . that it would be exciting, but . . ." She sighed. "I just wish it was a better world."

Yugi placed his hand over hers. Although Yugi was short, Anzu's hand always felt so tiny when he held it. He smiled. "I think everyone's always thought that, even before there were zombies."

Anzu blushed, and the color in her cheeks made Yugi's heart race. "Then maybe after this last box of condoms runs out . . . we could give it a try?"

They would have had to anyway. All the contraceptives and medicines were hitting their expiration dates. Their last box was expired, actually, but they figured it was better than nothing. Nevertheless, hearing Anzu's words made Yugi want to jump in the air. He kissed her three times, each a little longer than the kiss before it. "Okay. If you want to. That'd be great. Why wait until the box is empty? How about as soon as I get back from the hospital?"

"Yeah." Anzu brushed her fingers down Yugi's cheek. "As soon as you get back. Atem's back. The gods sent him. That means things are going to get better, right?"

Yugi nodded, grinning. The more he thought about them trying to have a baby – actually _trying_ , not getting pregnant on accident which would have been scary, but _trying –_ the happier Yugi became. He kissed Anzu again, taking his time to match his lips just-so against hers.

He pulled away, and she looked at him, her eyes as bright and blue as the sky on their wedding day. Every time Yugi starred in her eyes, he still remembered that day in spring, beneath the _sakura_ trees. The pink blossoms had showered down, landing in her hair and on her white dress and Yugi thought he'd suffocate from joy.

The memory made him lean down and kiss her shoulder. She shifted, turning her body slightly to encourage Yugi to kiss more of her skin. His lips traveled to the border of her nightshirt. Without a bra, her nipples pressed against the thin material covering her body. Yugi hooked his thumbs around the straps of her shirt and pulled the cloth down an inch so he could brush his lips against the top curve of her left breast. She arched her chest up and sighed.

Yugi looked up at her again, never getting enough of her eyes. She smiled at him, her voice a soft whisper. "Or . . . we could try tonight?"

His heart skipped a beat and so did time. Maybe it wasn't the best moment in their lives to plan a family. He knew there was a chance he'd never see her again, but that somehow made him want to try even more. He wanted their combined love to grow inside her. Yugi rolled over to the night-stand where their candle flickered, and blew it out.

* * *

 *****AN: I tried to look up pictures of Anzu to find out what color her eyes were, and I saw both brown and blue so I went with blue. I also saw a pic of Yami B and Anzu – wtf? No, seriously, what the dark, unholy f*ck? And people say Deathshipping's a crack pairing. Pfft.*****


	7. Chapter 6

*****Bah, can't I just spell Jonouchi's name as Joey, but let everyone else keep their manga names? Jonouchi's so hard to spell.** *******

 *****Disclaimer: This chapter has no Bakuras in it - so you can just skip it, unless you like Polarshipping fluff, I guess, or . . . you know, plot-like stuff and character development for people other than Bakura. I guess those are reasons you could read the chapter.*****

* * *

Jonouchi and Yugi cleaned and examined their guns. They didn't have nearly enough ammo for what they were planning on doing. Jonouchi glanced at Yugi across the kitchen table. "What's the plan, Yug?"

"Market Town."

Jonouchi nodded. All the best salvage made its way to Market Town. They'd be able to find ammo and better guns – for a price. "We don't have much to trade. I doubt anyone will swap a shotgun for fresh-cut lilies."

Yugi never took his eyes away from the barrel he cleaned with an oiled cloth. "I'll trade Ra."

In a world where TVs, iPhones, and the internet were no more, things like books and games became the new gold. Everyone wanted escape, even a temporary one, and Domino City always had a certain mania for Duel Monsters. The apocalypse only deepened the need for the game. Still, Jonouchi felt guilty hearing Yugi's words. "Atem won't like that," he said, as if that'd somehow convince his friend to change his mind and find another way.

"I'm not going to tell him." Yugi set down his gun-barrel and looked at Jonouchi. "I've already sold Obelisk for the chickens we have and the seeds we're growing. It won't make much difference to get rid of Ra at this point."

"You don't mean that."

Yugi smiled. "Why do I need mementos when Atem is back? I'm okay with this, Jonouchi."

"You still don't mean that, or you wouldn't try to hide what you're doing from Atem."

Yugi's happy smiled dropped into a neutral expression. He considered Jonouchi for a moment before responding. "I don't want to burden him. He already feels guilty enough – for not coming sooner despite the fact that it was the gods' decision."

Jonouchi sighed, his hands gripping his gun. "I wish I could do more myself."

"You gave up your Red Eyes for prenatal vitamins for Shizuka, and some of your other rare cards for medicine when Anzu and Honda were sick. Cards don't matter – but our friends do. We're doing the right thing, Jo."

"Doesn't feel like it."

"It doesn't always feel like it, but we are." Yugi smiled again. "And when Atem helps end this nightmare it'll be easy for us to win our cards back."

Jonouchi mimicked Yugi's smile. "Sure it will."

But they knew better. Even if the zombies disappeared, no one knew how long it'd take for things to get back to normal. If they ever got back to normal. There wouldn't be time for Duel Monsters, not even in the future. Besides, Yugi hadn't played a card game since their last safe house was overrun and they lost Mai.

Yugi had changed that night, vowing to never lose a member of their group again. Before, he'd been their mascot, keeping up morale, encouraging everyone, making sure they didn't lose hope. After, he became their leader, finding a new safe house, setting up watches and scavenging trips, pawning some of his best cards for anything they needed but couldn't salvage on their own. Because of Yugi's efforts and careful planning, they were all alive and better off than most survivors.

Still . . . Jonouchi missed his friend. He missed staying up until three in the morning with Yugi and Honda at the Game Shop. He missed drinking beer with them and playing Duel Monsters while Anzu, Mai, Ryo, and Shizuka had a girls' night at Mai's and Jonouchi's place – he and Honda always tried to get Ryo to stay with them, and sometimes he did, but for some odd reason Mai insisted that he go shopping with the girls instead.

Although, none of it mattered anymore, not since the first plague victim rose from their hospital bed and started attacking people.

Anzu startled Jonouchi out of his thoughts when she set a rucksack on the table next to them. "Everything you need should be in here. There's a flare gun, extra ammo, first aid kit, some food and water – I hope it's enough."

"You saved most of the supplies to keep here, right?" Yugi asked.

Anzu sighed and nodded. "Yes, because you're right. If the next generation doesn't make it . . . what's the point?" Anzu crouched next to Yugi, smiling at him. "So don't worry about us. I'll make sure everyone here stays safe. Even the little guy we haven't met yet."

They had no way to tell if it was a boy or a girl, but Honda had been calling him "the little guy" since he and Shizuka realized they were pregnant.

Yugi leaned forward and kissed Anzu's lips. "I know you'll keep everyone safe."

"You do the same on your side, okay?"

Yugi nodded. "I swear I will."

* * *

Atem opened his eyes to sunlight hitting his face. He blinked, his mind groggy. He had dreamt of Aaru, and waking back into a physical body felt like waking trapped in an iron maiden. He pushed himself into a sitting position. Beside his bed, he noticed someone had left him a change of clothes and a bowl with water for washing. He would have liked a shower, but the plumbing no longer worked.

Still, he had lived his entire life in a time before plumbing, and only got used to it when he shared a body with Yugi, so he managed without much complaint. Once washed and dressed, Atem found his way to the kitchen where everyone sat and ate breakfast.

Anzu stood up and handed him a plate. "Here you go."

He smiled at the plate of eggs, cucumber, and tomato slices. "Looks good."

"Sit down." She gestured to the chair next to Yugi that she had sat in a moment before.

Atem shook his head. "You sit there. I'm fine here."

"I'm done. Go ahead. I have to get water out of the cistern to clean up." She disappeared out of the kitchen, leaving Atem no choice but to sit down.

"How did you get chickens?" Atem asked.

"Yugi found them at Market Town," Shizuka answered.

"Market Town?"

"It's kinda near the apartment I lived in ten years ago," Jonouchi said. "In that part of town people built impromptu bridges from rooftop to rooftop so they could go anywhere on the block without having to fight zombies."

"The zombies can climb stairs, but not ropes or ladders, so the ceilings are mostly safe," Honda added.

"As long as you block the stairs," Yugi said, his tone grave. "But you have to be careful. The undead are slow and clumsy, but they don't seem to need sleep and if they know there are people in a building, they'll pound at any barrier until they either compromise it enough to get through, or get distracted by something else." Yugi sighed, looking down at his empty plate. "That's how the last place got overran. One little support beam. It seemed like a good brace for the wall of furniture we made, but over two dozen bodies bumping into each other skewed it just enough to shift a few things around and give them enough of a slope to crawl over. It was my fault. I should have set up a routine maintenance schedule for our barrier, but I didn't know any better."

"Hell, Yug." Jonouchi dropped his fork onto his plate. "No one knew better. It's not like they taught us how to survive a zombie apocalypse in high school. We learned everything from the school of hard knocks."

Yugi frowned, standing up. "Mai shouldn't have had to be our tuition for that lesson. Excuse me, I need to check on a few things before we go." Yugi disappeared through the same door Anzu left by.

Everyone sat quiet at the table. Atem looked at Jonouchi. "Tell me the truth, Jonouchi. Is he okay?" Atem felt ashamed for having to ask. Once he'd known his Other Self's heart like their feelings were one, but so much time had passed since then, and Yugi was different. A good different, but different all the same.

"What? Yugi?" Jonouchi asked. "Yeah, he's good. You know Yug – he feels like it's his job to save everyone, and the fact that he can't eats at him. He's okay, though. He doesn't let it tear him down, but he, y'know, uses it for motivation."

Atem nodded. For the first time ever, Atem felt anger towards the gods. He'd always thought the gods protected and loved their people, that they sheltered those who were kind and rewarded those who were good, but they had no right to wait over two years to interfere with the plague killing everyone. They had no right to ever allow Yugi to suffer as much as he had. However, as much as Atem wanted to blame the gods – he felt like it was his fault. He should have known Yugi was suffering. Even in Aaru he should have felt it somehow, and he hadn't.

Even after everyone else left, Atem sat at the kitchen table, trying to think, trying to reconcile the truth he wanted in his heart with the truth he saw around him with his eyes. He didn't look up from the table until Yugi stepped back into the kitchen.

"Ready to go?"

"Yes." Atem stood up too quickly. His chair clattered against the linoleum floor. He bent to pick it back up, and when he looked up again, Yugi was there to help him. Yugi smiled at Atem as they righted the fallen chair together. The former Egyptian Pharaoh studied his friend – trying to discern if the smile was sincere or for Atem's peace of mind.

Real. That's what Atem decided. Yugi's smile was real, and Atem found himself returning the smile. "Just let me get my sword."

Yugi's smile turned into an odd expression. "Bronze, right? We'll get you something a little more . . . appropriate in Market Town."

That was another thing Atem thought about as he went to his room where his old, Egyptian clothing lay. Why hadn't the gods given him better weapons? Why drop him in an alley with corpses instead of with his friends to begin with? He didn't understand.

* * *

Yugi kissed Anzu goodbye. He kissed her lips. He kissed her hands. He kissed her belly – for luck – it couldn't hurt, right? She grabbed his face and kissed his mouth again, like she'd never see him again.

"It's okay," he whispered into her hair once she'd pulled away from his lips. "I promise we'll be back. Promise."

"I know." Anzu nodded. "I know."

"Until then." He kissed her one last time. "Take care of yourself. Take care of everyone else."

"You do the same." She grabbed him, crushing his cheek against her breast. "Good luck."

"I always have good luck." Yugi laughed. "And won't Kaiba be so happy to see us?"

Anzu laughed at Yugi's attempted irony.

Yugi gave a soft chuckle as well. "But y'know, I think he will be – happy to see us – I mean. Even if he doesn't admit it." Yugi started to walk backwards. "Be ready when I get back. If last night didn't do it, we'll have a lot of work to do when I return."

Anzu laughed again. This time a blush graced her upper cheek bones. Yugi decided to leave at that moment with the image of Anzu laughing fresh in his mind. Her memory would remind him . . . why he couldn't break his promise to her . . . why they had to survive crossing past the hospital somehow and return so he could see her again.

The world outside sat bright and quiet. Two years without planes, or factories, or automobile traffic, left the sky a deeper, truer color blue. If it wasn't for the abandoned cars, streets littered with trash, and burnt or looted buildings, Yugi would have liked the change. They walked in a tight formation. He and Jonouchi on the outside, and Atem in the center.

Yugi gestured to a rear view mirror as they walked past it. "Always check reflections, and know what's behind you."

"Wouldn't you hear them before they attacked?" Atem asked.

"Sometimes, but not always."

"And people can be quiet on purpose," Jonouchi added.

"But wouldn't more people be helpful?"

Yugi exchanged a look with Jonouchi before shifting his gaze towards Atem. "Sometimes . . . but not always."

Atem glanced down. "I suppose that's true."

"Most people are good," Yugi said. "Most people would split their last cup of ramen with you even if they had nothing else, but there's always been bad people around."

"It just seems like under these circumstances everyone would learn to fight together."

"You'll like Market Town," Yugi diverted their conversation to something more pleasant. "There's lots of people, and they all get along."

"Ow!" Jonouchi shouted, holding the back of his head.

"What?" Yugi asked.

"Something hit me." Jonouchi bent down and picked up a hacky sack. "Hey!" He shouted into the seemingly empty street. "Who's the jerk that thought tossing a ball at my head would be funny?"

Yugi clicked the safety off of his gun, upset that he didn't notice that they weren't alone. His jaw clenched shut, and his eyes darted in every direction as he searched for Jonouchi's attacker.

"Well? Are you a coward?" Jonouchi shouted again. "Show yourself!"

They heard laughter above them. They both looked up and saw shoes and legs dangling from the branch of a maple tree. "Jerk and coward? Is that the welcome I get after so long, you big dumb idiot?"

Yugi lowered his gun. Jonouchi dropped the hacky sack back to the sidewalk. "M-mai?"

She jumped down to the sidewalk. Most women had cut their hair or started wearing it up in buns or braids, but not Mai. A band kept her hair out of her eyes, but the rest flowed down her back like a horses' mane. Cleavage still spilled out her tank-top, but she'd traded her skirt for a pair of jeans and her heels for tennis shoes. Yugi saw two guns in holsters, a knife strapped to one hip, and a machete strapped to the other. "Miss me, Jo?"

Jonouchi cried out an excited, non-verbal shout as he picked Mai up at the waist and spun her around in the air. "I knew it! I knew you were alive!"

Mai shrieked, laughing as Jonouchi spun her in the air. "Of course I'm alive."

"Of course you're alive," Jonouchi echoed her words as he set her back on her feet. "You've always been a loner, and a survivor, you've probably been better off without us."

"Maybe." She winked at him. "But I did kinda miss your face, so . . . it's good to find you again."

"Have you seen Ryo? Or Otogi? Or anyone?" Yugi asked.

Mai shook her head. "Sorry, I stay away from people."

Looking at Yugi, Mai finally noticed Atem standing beside him. "Well holy shit, look at you. Maybe I should be surprised, but with the zombies and everything . . ." Mai shrugged.

"That's why I'm here," Atem said. "The gods sent me to help."

"Talk about being fashionably late." Mai snorted. "But I guess it wouldn't do to try to argue with gods."

"Hey, why did it take you so long to find us?" Jonouchi burst into the conversation, on his own tangent. "We posted notices all over Market Town."

"That pile of roof-top shanties?" Mai looked at Jonouchi as if he'd hit his head. "That place was a dump before, and the end of the world didn't make it look any better. I stay away from that end of Domino. Besides, grouping everyone together like that is like setting up a zombie buffet. One person gets bit and the entire "town" could get wiped out."

"Well you could have at least _checked_ ," Jonouchi muttered. "We were worried about you, you know."

Mai grinned, resting her hand on her hip. "That's . . . really nice to hear, Jo."

"Sorry, Mai." Yugi smiled as he watched his two friends. "We're on our way to Market Town right now."

Mai rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Yugi, you guys should stay away from that place."

"We need more guns and ammo. We can show you to the new place. Anzu and Shizuka will be happy to see you, and I'd feel better with you looking over them."

"Or," Jonouchi drew the word out like a taunt. "If you're in the mood for a suicide mission you can go to the Kaiba mansion with us. _I'd_ feel better fighting half the zombies in Domino City if you were close by."

Mai raised her eyebrows. "I am a good shot. Don't really like suicide missions though. Why are you going to Kaiba's?"

"I need to find the Millennium Tome," Atem said. "It's the key to ending this, but we don't know where to start looking for it."

Mai snorted. "And you think Kaiba's going to help? C'mon, I know you've been gone for a while, but you should still remember that Seto Kaiba is the world's largest asshole."

"He'll help," Yugi said. "I'm sure of it." He gave Atem a side glance before looking down the road. "We've stood here too long."

Everyone followed Yugi's gaze. A single corpse shambled down the street towards them.

Mai grabbed her machete. "Got this."

Jonouchi grabbed his ax and ran after her. "Like hell. There's no way I'm gonna sit back and watch you kill that thing alone."

"Why the hell not?" Mai scowled at him. "I'm perfectly capable."

"It still wouldn't be right!"

"Why the hell not?"

"Because."

"Because _why_ , Jo?"

Instead of answering, Jonouchi walked faster, trying to reach the cadaver before Mai could, but she was quicker. She sprinted to the corpse, swung, and sank her blade into the creature's skull. Mai kicked the body away and wiped her machete on the zombie's shirt.

"You're so stubborn." Jonouchi growled.

"And you're a sexist pig!"

"I didn't say it was because you were a woman!"

"Oh, but you implied it!"

Yugi leaned close to Atem. "Watch, more will come. There's hardly ever one, and their shouting will draw others."

"Then shouldn't we _stop_ them?" Atem asked.

Yugi sighed. "I've never figured out how to get them to stop. You think survival instinct would kick in, but I don't think a typhoon could stop those two." Yugi walked closer to them as they continued to argue.

"I told you, it's not that!"

"Well, you haven't given me an alternative."

"Because – because I don't want to see you get hurt, okay?"

"You don't run after Yugi when it's just one creeper."

"He's different."

"Yeah, _he's_ different."

"No, it's not like that."

Yugi waved his hand when he got within speaking (as opposed to yelling) distance. "Uh, y'guys, zombies. Might want to tone it down."

"Then what's it like, Jo?"

Jonouchi balled his hands into fists. "I just don't want you to get hurt. God, quit making this difficult."

"So Yugi can get hurt?"

"Of course not!"

"My point has been made."

"It's not the same!"

"Of course not, because I'm a chick. I get it."

"Because I love you, stupid!"

Yugi and Atem started at the confession. It wasn't exactly a secret, but Jonouchi never said it out loud before.

Mai didn't even seem to notice. She was so caught up in their argument that she continued to yell. "Don't call me an idiot, you – whoa, whoa, wait . . ." she paused, her brain catching up with Jonouchi's words. "D-did you just say . . ."

Atem grabbed Yugi's arm. He turned and noticed four more corpses appeared from a side alley. Behind them, three more were walking down the street.

"You guys are both idiots," Yugi said, it wasn't really nice to say, and he felt bad after saying it, but he couldn't help it. They'd fight enough once they neared the hospital, and now they'd have to waste time and energy fighting their way to Market Town. "And now there's enough for everyone to kill, so stop arguing and grab your guns."


	8. Chapter 7

*****Making up for the last chapter with an all-Deathshipping chapter*****

 ***** Disclaimer: Deathshipping Lemon. *****

* * *

"And that's twenty!" Kek shouted, a grin on his face and clotted blood splattered across his arms and cheeks. "What are you at?"

" _Psssh_. Eleven."

"I'm kicking your ass, Ryo!"

Ryo focused on the corpses in front of him. They fought in the parking lot of an old, deserted burger restaurant. The windows boasted _100% real beef_ in bright red block letters. It was almost funny, until Ryo saw the abandoned doll on the sidewalk and a small shoe.

"Thirteen!"

Corpses littered the pavement around them. A battery powered boombox sat on the blacktop between them. The loud music lured zombies to a wide area where they could fight but still have room for escape if something went wrong.

"Twenty-five!"

"You're too good. I give up." Ryo snorted. "Aren't you even a little tired?"

"Of smashing skulls in with a pair of kukris? Is that question a joke?"

Ryo couldn't help but laugh. Kek said it so candidly that it was cute. Ryo kicked the stop button on the stereo with his foot to kill the music.

"Hey." Kek scowled as he sank the weight of his right kukri into the last nearby skull. "I was listening to that."

"I'm hungry," Ryo said as he watched the progression of five more corpses wandering into the parking lot.

Kek grinned when he saw them. He jumped over fallen bodies to reach the closest one. "Okay! Let me finish these bastards and we'll get a burger!"

Ryo rolled his eyes, but a smile infected his face nonetheless. He lost himself watching Kek; killing was a dance to the former alter ego. He spun, and leapt, blades flashing silver in the sunlight. His dark, tawny complexion and willowy limbs made Ryo think of a dryad, but bodies fell around him instead of acorns.

Ryo only noticed the corpse creep up behind him because of the reflection in the store window. Even as Ryo spun to fight it, he heard Kek calling for him to watch out, but Ryo wasn't worried. He slashed behind the creature's knee, disabling it, and then, when the zombie crashed on top of two other corpses, Ryo used the tip of his naginata to plunge into the dead thing's skull through its eye socket. He had his blade cleaned before Kek even reached him.

Without warning, Kek grabbed Ryo's shoulders and kissed him hard. He lifted Ryo up and laid him down. Ryo grunted. They laid on a small pile of cadavers and he didn't like the cold, stiff feel of their bodies, but he couldn't push Kek away. So he lay on the asphalt, a dead man's arm pressed into his back, and allowed Kek to devour his mouth with quick, desperate kisses. When Kek's hold on Ryo's shoulders relaxed, Ryo pushed him away.

"I told you, didn't I?" Ryo scolded. "Don't get close. If you get close it'll hurt when that person dies."

Kek blinked searing lilac eyes at Ryo. His mouth twisted into a knot of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You were worried about me." Ryo smacked the corpse below him – the one he'd just killed. "You cried out when you saw it. You ran to help me. You kissed me when you realized that I was okay."

Kek's eyes darted around the parking lot, not really looking at the corpses. It was as if he stared inside himself somehow. "I was . . . worried?"

Ryo sighed, standing up and looking around to make sure they were still alone. Except for two sparrows splashing in a puddle, Ryo didn't see anything. "Weren't you?" he asked Kek.

"I . . . suppose." Kek frowned and scratched the back of his head. "I didn't realize that's what it was."

"No more kissing. You're getting attached."

"Oh come on!" Kek threw his arms up in protest. "So what if I tried to help. We're partners, right? Partners get each other's backs. Besides . . . I like kissing."

"I swore – _I swore to his corpse before I bashed his brains in_ – that I'd never need protecting again! I don't want you to care about me! I don't want anyone to ever die for me again!"

"I don't care." Kek crossed his arms over his chest, an angry pout on his face. "I'm just . . . possessive. You're _mine_. I don't want my things damaged." He dropped his arms to his side. "Besides, you should trust me a little bit. I'm not going to get eaten. I'll be here as long as the dead walk."

Ryo stomped a few paces away. He paced across an area not covered in dead flesh. "Trust you? You just compared me to an item – like your shoes or knives – and you want me to trust you?"

" _Kukris_ , not knives, and . . . well." Kek shrugged, standing up. "I thought you'd feel better if I said it like that." He dug his sneaker-toe into a crack in the asphalt. "That's something people would expect me to say, right?"

Ryo stopped, stepping closer to Kek. For a moment it looked like he wanted to reach out, but then he held his naginata tightly with both hands and stared at their body count. "I'm hungry."

"Yeah." Kek nodded his head, sounding disappointed. "Wait here."

"Where are you going?" Ryo asked.

Kek flashed him a mischievous grin. "You'll just have to trust me . . . Ryo."

Ryo sighed, slumping his shoulders and dropping down on the nearest corpse as if it were a beanbag chair. "Hurry up. If you take too long I'll leave you."

"Yeah." Kek dropped his head. "Because waiting would mean you cared and that would make you weak."

" _You_ of all people should respect that logic."

"I understand it."

Kek took off, leaving Ryo alone to contemplate the morality of using a _dead_ zombie as furniture. The thing did try to eat him – served it right to be Ryo's chair. Nevertheless, Ryo ended up scooting onto the pavement before Kek returned fifteen minutes later. Kek swung something from his hand. Ryo squinted, trying to discern what it was.

"Is that . . . a duck?"

"I saw her nesting under a scrub near the park we passed on our way here." Kek stopped a few feet away from Ryo. "Her eggs are in my pack."

"Oh." Ryo sighed, standing up.

"You're sad," Kek said, "because I killed her."

"It is a little sad . . . especially when they have babies." Ryo shrugged. "But it's been awhile since I've eaten much more than cupped ramen, so . . ." Ryo put a hand to his belly.

"I know. You're too skinny."

Ryo frowned, looking down at his fabric-hidden figure. "I've always been skinny."

"But now you're bony. Gotta eat if you want to ever catch up to me in our headcount." Kek swung the dead bird in the direction of Ryo's temporary safe house. "Let's go clean this up and cook it."

"We shouldn't light a fire because it attracts—"

"Bla, bla, bla. Gods, all you ever talk about is _don't do this_ and _don't do that_." Kek started walking.

Ryo followed him. "It's how I've survived."

"Tell me, did you promise your father that you'd survive . . . or that you'd live? They're not the same, you know. I survived for years in Marik's mind, but I'm just now alive."

Ryo stared at the back of Kek's head. He reached out, wanting to hold Kek's hand, but pulled his hand back into his chest. "It's . . . really hard."

"Let me . . ." Kek paused, biting his lower lip before finishing his sentence. "Let me protect you, Ryo."

"No." Ryo shook his head, his eyes wide in panic. "No. I'm never going back to how I was before. I don't want to be weak."

* * *

Kek lit a damn fire anyway. He dug a huge pit into the front yard and filled it with broken bits of furniture. Ryo fretted the entire time, but Kek only laughed at him and told him to go away if he was afraid. Instead of leaving, Ryo sat in the grass with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. Kek realized Ryo _wouldn't_ leave, not after Kek implied that doing so would be cowardice. Kek grinned, wondering if a dare for a kiss would work in the same way.

Kek didn't mind cleaning the duck. It was more fun, to pluck and gut something recently killed. He saved the organs at Ryo's command – Ryo wanted to make stew with the fat and tougher organ meat. Currently Kek sat and watched the flames and he turned the carcass on an impromptu rotisserie that he'd made. The meat popped as the flames heated up the fat. The skin crackled as it roasted, reddish-brown with blackened patches. Kek's mouth watered at the aroma of charring flesh.

A zombie stumbled along the road towards them.

"See. And when you see one there's always more."

"Turn this duck and I'll go take care of it."

Ryo stood up, naginata in hand. " _I'll_ deal with it."

Kek smiled as he watched Ryo stomp down the street. Even pouting, Ryo looked cute. The way his anger made him slash at the corpse before delivering the coup de grace made Kek lick his bottom lip and groan a little to himself. He checked the meat with a carving knife. Juice spilled over the blackening skin, but the meat inside was dark and fully cooked, so Kek removed the duck from the spit and placed it on a platter Ryo'd given him. "Hey Ryo, hurry up. Dinner's ready."

"There's two more," Ryo complained. "Put the damn fire out before more show up."

"Want some help?"

"No," Ryo snapped over his shoulder before spearing the second corpse with his weapon.

Kek stared at Ryo's ass for a moment, appreciating the way the muscles flexed as he fought. He would have stared longer, but then he realized Ryo was right and more zombies crept along the street. He smothered the fire with dirt and set the bird inside the kitchen before coming back out with his kukris. Ryo may not have wanted help, but four more corpses appeared from the other end of the street, and Kek wasn't about to give up on _all_ the fun.

After the first four, Kek saw two more down a small walkway between houses. He ran to them and dispatched them with heavy strokes of his blades.

Ryo's scream brought Kek back to the main street. Kek's heart stuck in his throat at the sound. He ran back to main street and towards Ryo. He saw the other male standing in the road, stabbing a body on the ground. It didn't move, but Ryo raised and lowered his naginata without pausing. Kek cleaned and sheathed his kukris and jogged to Ryo.

"Ryo?" he asked.

Ryo dropped his weapon and threw himself into Kek's chest. He didn't cry, but he screamed, muffling the sound of his voice by pressing his mouth into Kek's body.

Kek didn't know what to do, so he held Ryo's shoulders and waited for the fit to pass.

"I knew her. I . . . we went to school together. We—" Ryo gasped, starting to hyperventilate. "They're all dead. They're all dead. They're all dead – they're all dead – they're all dead – they'realldead!"

"Ryo, stop."

"They're all dead – they're all dead—"

"Stop it, Ryo!"

"They're dead! They're dead! They're dead! They're all dead! Everyone I know is dead! Dead-dead-dead-dead-dead!"

"You stop right now!" Kek screamed, shaking Ryo's shoulders. He didn't know what to do.

The force of Kek's shaking caused Ryo to stumble back and fall over the pile of dead. He hit his head against the cement, wincing and rubbing the area. Kek knelt beside him, checking the back of Ryo's head. A lump swelled beneath Ryo's white hair, but he didn't feel blood.

Ryo wasn't screaming anymore, but he glared at Kek with angry brown eyes.

Kek opened his mouth to apologize, but didn't say anything. After awhile he looked down at the woman that Ryo had known. "Anubis couldn't weigh their hearts. That's why Isis sent me – to free them so they could pass on." He looked up at Ryo. "So when you kill them – you're saving them. You saved your dad and you saved that woman."

The anger broke from Ryo's face. He lay down on the sidewalk and stared up at the sky, legs still propped on top of the torso of the corpse he'd tripped over. He didn't say anything.

Kek checked both sides of the street, but didn't see anything coming towards them. He lay beside Ryo, looking up at the bright wash of blue splaying out endlessly above them. "It's beautiful," Kek said. It was the first time he ever appreciated the sky.

"I'm afraid." Ryo's voice sounded tight and small.

"Of what?"

"Fucking up. Being alone again. Being weak. Dying. Living. Waking up in the mornings. Going to sleep at night. Laying here on the sidewalk."

Kek sat up. He checked around them again before looking down at Ryo. "Let's go eat."

Ryo sat up. "Okay. I'm starving."

And Kek worried that Ryo's statement might have been a little too close to the truth. He was beautiful, always beautiful. Even in a destroyed world he was beautiful, but when they'd slept together his bones felt too sharp against Kek's body.

They went into their safe house and took the duck into the attic. The carcass still steamed and Kek cleaved the bird in half so they could each have their own piece. Ryo attacked the duck. He sucked every scrap of meat off of each bone and licked the grease off of his palms between bites.

Kek felt himself flush as he watched Ryo. The sight of teeth ripping into flesh, and lips sucking on bones made Kek's heart flutter down into his stomach.

"Save the bones," Ryo said as he sucked on his fingers. "I can boil them with the soup."

"O-okay," Kek muttered, almost forgetting to eat as he stared at Ryo.

When they both finished, Ryo took the bones and organ scraps and put them in a pot over a small, propane powered camping burner. "It's hard to find the propane refills," Ryo said as he added water to the pot. "But it's a lot safer than cooking outside on a fire.

"What will you do when you can't find anymore propane?"

Ryo shrugged.

Kek stared out the window. They still had a few hours of daylight. He patted the kukri on his left side. "I'm going to walk the block and see if I can find a few last bastards to kill."

Ryo stood up. "I'll go with you."

Kek nodded towards the pot. "Shouldn't you keep an eye on that?"

"I can finish it when we get back."

"Ryo." Kek frowned. He looked at Ryo, in his quilted shirt, dusty jeans, and near worn-out boots. Ryo stood in a cone of light slanting in from the attic window. Dust motes settled around him. He looked like magic personified. Kek sighed. "You kind of freaked out today. I think you should rest."

"I'm fine!" Ryo snapped. "I – I knew her, and . . . but I'm fine now. It won't happen again."

"I'm just going around the block. I don't need a mother." Kek waved his hand as he walked out the door, hoping that his phrasing would keep Ryo from following him. It worked. The other male slumped down in front of his soup pot and scowled while Kek walked away.

Outside, Kek enjoyed the way the summer's evening sun slanted and changed everything to gold and shadow. He didn't see many corpses, but he wasn't truly looking for zombies. Kek found his real objective on the other side of the block – a plum tree peeking up over a fenced yard. He wanted Ryo to eat more. Kek felt . . . compelled to make sure Ryo had enough to eat as long as he was around.

Kek jumped the fence and landed in a garden. An old woman lunged towards him, and Kek sent her to Anubis before examining the yard. He found watermelon, cutting one from the vine to take with him. He also stuffed his rucksack with a dozen plums. Kek went ahead and finished circling the block before returning to Ryo's hideout in order to make sure he'd gotten any nearby threats before they retired for the night. Ryo stayed in an attic with a pull-up ladder and nothing could get to them in their sleep; however, Kek figured it didn't hurt to be cautious.

Kek used an old broom stick to knock on the trapdoor to the attic. It opened and he saw Ryo's face peering down at him.

"You have a watermelon?"

"I found it in someone's yard."

"Wow . . . I guess I'm always so preoccupied looking for corpses that I never have time to notice what's growing in people's gardens."

"I have plums, too. Drop down the ladder."

Ryo did and Kek climbed up, scattering dust with each step. He cut the watermelon into wedges and set half of them in front of Ryo with two plums. Ryo grabbed one of the plums first and bit into it. Juice trickled down his chin. Ryo closed his eyes and sighed, eating the fruit with the same passion he'd used to devour the duck.

Kek kept his stare on Ryo, again ignoring his own food in order to watch his companion. He realized it wasn't just the flesh and bones that made Kek enjoy watching Ryo – it was the way Ryo savored each bite, and the way Ryo worked his mouth and hands around the food.

Kek closed his eyes in order to focus on his own dessert. The plums washed his tongue in sweet juice, and even warm, the watermelon tasted refreshing in the stuffy heat of the attic.

"Mmmm." Ryo sucked on each finger when he finished. "Now I'm a mess. I have enough water for us to wash up a bit."

"Yeah," Kek muttered.

Ryo started giggling. "Kek? Are you blushing? You've already seen me naked."

Kek looked away. "It's hot in here," he complained. Standing up, Kek went to the window and opened it to let the evening breeze sweep into the attic. When he turned around, Ryo stood an inch behind him.

Kek couldn't pull his eyes away from Ryo. He reached out his hand, untied the strap holding Ryo's hair, and watched the white strands fall around Ryo's face. "I know why you keep it up, but I like it down."

"Maybe I could wear it down . . . in the attic." Ryo's eyes gleamed brightly like two Apache Tears held up to the sunlight.

Kek wondered if it was possible to get high off of food, because Ryo looked more than a little buzzed.

"I wish you weren't afraid of me," Kek whispered.

"I'm not afraid of you," Ryo said.

Kek brushed the back of his knuckles against Ryo's cheek.

"Oh," Ryo said, understanding Kek's meaning.

"I lied." Kek dragged his fingers into Ryo's hair, combing out the tangles.

Ryo took a step closer, his face two centimeters from Kek's. "About what?"

Kek closed half the gap between them, his fingers still slipping into threads of white. "Isis listed all the emotions I'd feel if I came back in my own body."

"Yeah? Name them." Ryo closed his eyes and bridged the last breath of space between them.

The kiss was soft, fleeting, his lips only teasing against Kek's lips.

"Anger," Kek whispered, and Ryo ghosted his lips over Kek's a second time. "Hatred."

Kek continued down the list as Isis had, only instead of placing a fragment into a vase, Ryo placed a kiss onto Kek's lips with each emotion listed. "Sorrow. Joy. Envy. Lust."

He paused before the end, afraid to say the last word.

"Don't stop," Ryo breathed the words against his lips.

"You don't want to hear it."

"Maybe I do."

"You didn't want it."

"No . . . I didn't, but it's too late. I warned you, but you didn't listen to me."

"I'm sorry." And he was. He never wanted to succumb to an emotion so ridiculous, so human, as love, but he had, he had, he had, oh dammit he had.

"Sorry won't fix it. Might as well own up to it."

"Love." Kek held his breath after the word left his mouth. When his lungs burned he sucked in a sharp breath and held Ryo's face in his hands. "Ryo, you make me feel each emotion. Each one. You're so stubborn, and it pisses me off and I feel all the familiar emotions from before. You're so gorgeous that I want to ravage you. When you cry, it breaks my heart, and every time you smile . . ." Kek closed his eyes. "I fall in love."

"You bastard." Ryo kissed him truly – opened mouth, tongue on tongue, no more teasing. "You bastard."

"Ryo."

"I didn't want to feel again. I killed it. I killed it so it wouldn't hurt anymore." Ryo tugged at Kek's shirt, pulling it over Kek's head and then working on Kek's belt buckle.

"Ryo." He tried to loosen Ryo's clothing, but his fingers felt like feathers, soft and useless.

"I hate the gods for bringing you back because you brought me back." After Ryo finished with Kek's belt, he stripped off Kek's pants. Then he pushed Kek down onto the mattress near the window. Ryo ripped off his own clothing and lay on top of Kek.

Ryo was a storm and Kek was a leaf. He lay there, lost in kisses and the desperate attention of Ryo's fingers.

"I don't want to love you."

"Ahh!" Kek screamed when Ryo bit into his leather-colored shoulder.

"But I do." Ryo ameliorated the bite with soft, deliberate kisses. "Because you've saved me."

"Ryo, please." Kek arched up into Ryo's bony body. He felt as if he'd split if Ryo didn't take him in that moment.

Ryo reached over to his bag, pulling the Vaseline from one of the myriad pockets. He made sure Kek's opening was covered with the thick gel before slipping his fingers inside Kek's body. Kek kept his eyes closed, trying to process the feeling of Ryo's touch.

"How did you . . ." Ryo stumbled for words. "Make it better last time?"

Kek shook his head. He didn't know what Ryo was talking about.

Ryo twisted his mouth in thought, trying to explain himself better. "You . . . hit some spot that made me call out a lot."

"Oh." Kek opened his eyes, smiling to himself. "No one's ever made you call out before?"

Ryo's face heated up to a bright coral. "Not like that."

Kek's grin widened. "Press up."

Ryo obeyed without argument.

"Now back a little – there!" Kek hadn't meant to shout, but when Ryo's fingers found the right area everything inside of Kek suddenly became tight, sharp, and violently pleasant.

Ryo wasted no time. As soon as he realized what to do, he treated Kek like a plum – devouring him with touch. Kek couldn't do anything other than throw his head back and repeat the same, breathless noise each time Ryo touched him.

Ryo pulled out his fingers and scooped more Vaseline out of the plastic tub. "Since it's your first time this way, I'll go slow."

Kek sat up a bit so he could watch Ryo insert himself into Kek's body. The sight of Ryo's dick – white and erect like a column of pale marble – sheathing itself into Kek's silt-colored body, made Kek want to grab himself and rush to a quick climax, but he dug his fingers into the sheets below them and forced himself to wait because it was too good to rush. It was agony to hold back, but too good to rush.

Ryo grabbed Kek's legs and placed them on his white shoulders. He leaned close, forcing Kek's hips up as Kek's body weight rested on his upper-back and shoulders. The position enabled Ryo to press up and back, just as his fingers had, and Kek wondered if he could hold out stroking or not.

Kek's gaze shifted from their bodies to Ryo's face. Instead of fever, Ryo's cheeks burned with want and effort. Kek couldn't restrain the moans free-falling from his mouth. "Faster."

"You sure? If it hurts let me know—"

"Ryo, faster!" Kek hiked up into Ryo's thrusts to reiterate his point.

Ryo let out a little groan. He closed his eyes as he allowed his hips to rock back and forth swifter than before. Kek felt himself begin to lose control. He held on another moment as his legs shook with the beginning of an orgasm. Then he couldn't stand it. He grabbed himself and pumped quick and hard at his own erection to finish off his climax.

Ryo moaned as he watched, setting Kek's legs down onto the mattress and hovered over Kek's body. When Ryo finished inside Kek, he dropped down until they lay chest to chest. Kek dotted Ryo's collarbone with kisses. He looked at Ryo to see if he would give him another lecture about no kissing.

"It's okay," Ryo spoke low, his face soft and his expression warm. "I . . . used to kiss for hours, until our mouths burned and it hurt."

"You had a boyfriend?"

Ryo nodded, staring out the window. "But before all this happened he dumped me for a girl. He actually had the nerve to propose to her first and _then_ dump me after she accepted." Ryo curled up a little tighter against Kek's chest. "He didn't love her. He just wanted to get married because he wanted to take over his father's business."

"Want to look for them? Maybe they're zombies and we could set them on fire."

Ryo shook his head no.

"It'd be fun."

"I don't know why I even told you. Doesn't matter what happened before. Everything's ruined now."

"You know what's good about me?" Kek said, his tone serious.

"What?"

"You already know I don't want to follow in my father's footsteps."

Ryo laughed. "That was the worst joke ever."

Kek flipped them so that Ryo lay on the bottom and Kek hovered above him. He looked down at Ryo, thinking about how Kek wasn't the only broken vessel trying to piece himself back together one fragment at a time. Kek bent down and kissed Ryo. He was going to kiss him for hours. He was going to kiss him until their mouths burned and it hurt.


	9. Chapter 8

*****Disclaimer: Xenoshipping fluff/ Citronshipping Lemon*****

* * *

They found a three-story apartment building to shelter in that night. As soon as they'd cleared the building of animated dead and had supper together, Ishizu made up an excuse for Marik and Bakura to find a room on the second floor while she and Rishid stayed on the third floor. Her suggestion that Marik and Bakura stay a floor lower to keep guard was a thinly veiled excuse, but her little brother had snatched at it and all but dragged Bakura away from the dinner table.

In truth, Ishizu didn't mind the alone time with Rishid. They sat too close on the sofa, peering at a map of Domino City. Because of the way the candles divided everything into weak yellow and shadowed black, their faces almost pressed cheek to cheek in order to see the street names on the faded sheet of paper.

"Here's the pier." Ishizu pointed with her fingernail, trailing the path they took. "And here's the block we're on now. Which way should we start tomorrow?"

Rishid's eyes scanned the map. "It'll set us back a bit, but I think we should go back to the docks."

Ishizu wrinkled her brow. "Why?"

"My old Duel Monsters deck is on the ship. Did you notice? Both survivors we saw today asked us if we wanted to duel them. We'll learn more information if we play while we ask questions."

Ishizu frowned. "Don't you think that was odd? How both people we met wanted to play cards? They didn't ask for food, or help, or news from the outside world – they wanted to play Duel Monsters."

Rishid shrugged. "We lived underground. We didn't grow up with TV and cell phones. Our childhoods made it easy to adjust. I suppose everyone else is having a harder time."

"You could be right." Ishizu sighed. "I just have a bad feeling. Like there's something more to it."

Rishid turned to look at her. Their faces hovered a breath apart from one another. "I trust your instincts. If you're concerned, so am I."

She was concerned, but Rishid's breath tickling her cheek made her smile despite herself. She started to lean forward, her eyes sifting shut, but stopped. How many nights had they done this? Sat a breath apart, but never fully pressed together. It was like the ghost of her father stood between them and she couldn't push past his ethereal disapproval.

She'd tell herself she was a grown woman. She'd tell herself that the bloodline of the tomb keepers was already lost – especially now that she knew Marik would never father an heir – but despite that, some old, unspeakable fear from her childhood always froze her in place. She wished Rishid would break the barrier instead, but he had too much respect, too much of the old servitude to ever step "out of place".

Ishizu pulled away. "It's not a bad idea, though. We'll get our cards tomorrow and start playing against whoever we find. Getting information is a much better plan than walking around and hoping we'll see the Tome laying in the streets."

Her breath caught as Rishid's fingers slipped across her cheek. She sat still, waiting to see where he'd go with the touch. Hoping against all logic and reason that perhaps he would kiss her.

He didn't look at her, not directly. He stared at his fingers touching her smooth, copper skin. They traveled up her cheekbone, and then jumped to her hair. Rishid trailed his touch down the braid slung across her shoulder, ending his journey at her hair ribbon.

Ishizu pressed both her hands on top of Rishid's hand, afraid he'd let go otherwise. Her touch startled him. His eyes jerked to hers. "Ishizu?"

He spoke her name like he once did in the tomb. Before Marik's initiation, when they were children and as happy as children could be while living trapped underground under an oppressive upbringing of strict tradition and discipline.

She couldn't answer, too afraid to say something wrong. Instead, she smiled and squeezed his hand. The map fell from his other hand, dropping to the coffee table with the soft, shuffled sound of paper landing on wood. Rishid's freed hand reached up and rested on top of Ishizu's hands. He did lean forward then, but not to kiss her. His nose brushed against her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered shut; a sigh slipped out between her parted lips. Rishid continued to brush against her until they sat with their cheeks pressed together. There he stayed, breathing in her ear. Their eyes remained closed – their hands still locked together.

* * *

Marik pounded on the bathroom door. "What the hell are you doing in there, Bakura?"

"Washing!" Bakura shouted through the door. "I already told you."

"Well, hurry up. I have plans for you."

"Why the hell do you think I'm in here for?" The door opened and Bakura poked his head out enough to scowl at Marik. "Which, by the way, wouldn't have taken half as long if you weren't knocking the door down the entire time."

Marik smirked. "I want you _now_. Not an hour from now."

Bakura growled, stomping to the bed. He had a candle in one hand and a bottle of baby oil in the other. "This was all I could find. _Not_ ideal, but I suppose it's better than spit."

Bakura set both items near the bed. His naked, brown body glowed in the light of multiple candles. Marik stared at the muscles around Bakura's shoulder blades. He walked up behind Bakura and graced his fingers down the smooth, unscarred skin of Bakura's back.

Marik smiled. "Are we about to get into an argument?"

Bakura shrugged, peeking over his shoulder. "Probably, we always do. What, exactly, are we going to argue about?"

"How we do this."

"Ha!" Bakura laughed and jumped on the bed, sitting up with his legs splayed out in a wanton pose. "Well, considering how you're a princess waiting to be rescued—"

"We are _not_ going back into that." Marik all but growled the words towards Bakura. "One more word about it and I'll show you who's a princess."

"How will you show me?" A deliberate smirk flashed across Bakura's face. "Will you dress up like one? You do have the golden hair for it, you know."

Marik lunged on top of Bakura, nestling between his legs and pressing Bakura's torso flat against the bed. "You're not going to be able to walk by the time I'm done with you."

Bakura shifted beneath Marik's body weight, spreading his legs out a little wider. "Well? Are you going to talk about it, or are you going to do it?"

Marik blinked. His anger diffused a little once he caught the eager look on Bakura's face. "Just like that? You're just going to lay there and let me do whatever I want?"

Bakura tried to shrug. Beneath his hands, Marik felt the tug of Bakura's muscles, but Marik's body weight had Bakura pinned. "You do whatever you want anyways. I might as well sit back and enjoy the ride."

Marik scoffed. "When have you ever sat back and enjoyed _anything_?"

Bakura chuckled. "Right now. I'm enjoying this immensely."

Marik thrust his hips down in between Bakura's legs. "Yeah?"

Bakura's eyes drooped the moment Marik pressed into him. The grin never left his face, and Marik enjoyed seeing Bakura look more happy than bitter. He pressed into Bakura again, allowing their bare skin to drag against each other.

A grunt of pleasure escaped Bakura's mouth. "Hey, Marik?"

"Hmmm?" Even grinding, Marik found it hard to concentrate as pleasure threatened to overtake him.

"Just this once . . ." Bakura paused to arch into Marik as he made another sweep of their bodies together. "Just this once let's not argue."

Marik opened his mouth to say something sardonic, but he realized he didn't have anything to say. He wanted to _do_ , to express himself through action alone, to confess all the subtle, difficult thoughts in his head without speaking a single word. Instead of arguing, Marik used his opened mouth to lean forward and kiss Bakura. The thief parted his lips right away, slipping his tongue into Marik's mouth and moaning.

Marik felt torn between a thousand different things he wanted to do all at once. He realized he needed twenty thousand nights with Bakura to explore every desire, and that thought caused Marik's cheeks to burn. The thought of night after consecutive night with his old partner seemed somehow forbidden, as if Bakura would run off at any moment to find the Pharaoh and challenge him to one last Shadow Game – despite being destined to lose, despite the fact that it meant Marik would lose as well, lose Bakura again. Marik gasped. The irrational thought stabbed straight through his lungs, making it hurt to breathe.

"What's wrong?" Bakura whispered, tucking Marik's hair behind his ear. Marik remembered him doing the same little gesture the night before. His lungs hurt more because of it.

Marik opened his mouth, but couldn't speak. He shook his head _no_.

"Marik," Bakura whispered again, so gently that, had Bakura still been in Ryou's body, Marik may have thought it wasn't even Bakura talking but his former vessel.

Something about Bakura's tone made the words fall out of Marik's mouth. "I'm still afraid you're going to disappear again."

Bakura shook his head. "No. No I'm not. I came back for you."

A sad smile decorated Marik's face. "You mean the gods sent you back to help find the Tome, right?"

Bakura looked away, then forced his eyes back to Marik. ". . . not exactly."

Marik raised an eyebrow at Bakura's words. They still lay pressed together, but at the moment it was more intimate than sexual.

Bakura winked. "I may have implied that, but it's not really what happened."

"Then what did happen?"

Bakura's mouth dropped into a small frown. "They sent Atem. Of course, of course they sent that bastard. A deceased Pharaoh is the avatar of Osiris, after all. I was taking a nap in a olive orchard and I overheard two women talking about it. I mean, no one's ever gone back before. Not like that, and then I was talking to a friend and she was worried about what it really meant, and I decided I needed to find you – _you_ , Marik. You. Not the Tome."

Marik chuckled. "I already have trouble believing in this story if you were talking to a friend."

"Gaming rival, then. Does that help?"

"So what did you do? Go and nag Osiris until he let you go back as well?"

Bakura sat up, forcing Marik to sit on the mattress beside him instead of on top of him. "They wouldn't send me back. I'm not some Pharaoh – I'm a thief."

"Then what happened? Did you steal your way back?"

The boastful, proud grin on Bakura's face turned Marik's chuckle into a laugh.

"Bullshit."

"Well, I had help."

"Uh-huh, who's dumb enough to help you?"

"Your mother. I learned her song. She told me about a way to sneak back to the Duat. I won my life in a dice game against Thoth."

Marik stopped laughing. He eyed Bakura, not sure if Bakura's story was real or a joke.

Bakura eyed Marik back. "What?"

"That sounds more like a story than something that could actually happen."

Bakura rubbed his shoulder, staring at the mattress. "Well . . . doesn't everything that happens to us? There are zombies out there walking the streets right now."

Marik looked at the window blinds, as if he could see past them and down to the streets below. "Good point." He leaned a little closer to Bakura. "So you really left Paradise . . . to see me again?"

"To . . ." Bakura stopped. His gaze still avoided Marik; his eyes stared wide and uncertain at his own brown, naked thighs. "I would have seen you in Aaru, eventually. It would have felt like waiting during a long afternoon for a lover to come home."

"You're being poetic again."

Bakura scowled at the sheets. Marik rested his caramel-brown hand on top of Bakura's brown-sugar forearm. "I didn't say stop."

"This is already hard to say."

"Yeah." Marik smiled. "I know what you mean."

Bakura's eyes flicked towards Marik's face for half an instant and then sank back down to the white sheets. "Then give me a break."

"I can't help it."

Bakura went back to scowling; the shadows from the candles crept across his skin and danced over his body. "It's like this – everybody dies, and when you're among the dead that's something to look forward to, but even in Aaru there were rumors about people needing to die twice before they could cross over like they should. And . . . the thought of you _not_ crossing over . . . the thought of _not_ seeing you . . . I had to find you. I didn't know what was happening, but I had to protect you from it."

"Why?" Marik whispered. "I don't . . . understand why you'd go through all that trouble."

"Because . . ." He had wanted to say it in a garden in Paradise. Unfortunately, there were no blue lotuses (more purple than blue and so much like Marik's eyes) floating in shallow pools, no papyrus in bloom, or cranes bathing. They were in a small apartment, with ordinary, white sheets, and ordinary, white walls, and everything was dingy from not being used for the last two years, but Bakura supposed it didn't matter where he said it half as much as it mattered _that_ he said it – that he finally confessed to Marik what he'd truly learned about himself in Aaru. Bakura's face lifted, staring into Marik's eyes. " . . . I love you, Marik."

Marik pressed his forehead into Bakura's chest; his fingers dug deep into Bakura's shoulders. Marik's voice sounded worn, near broken as he spoke. "I don't . . . deserve it."

Bakura wrapped his arms around Marik's body. "Shut-up."

"Everything I did when I was younger—"

"Can't compare to all the things _I_ did."

"You didn't kill your parents."

"Don't be stupid, Marik. Your mother's waiting in Aaru to meet you."

"And my father? Has he forgiven me?"

Bakura paused. He didn't think Marik's father was _in_ Aaru. He was more likely in Ammit's belly. "I never saw him."

Bakura cupped his hands around Marik's face, and lifted Marik's chin up. "Marik, I love you."

A tentative smile fought itself onto Marik's face. "Really?"

"I've said it twice."

"Bakura, I . . ." Marik grabbed Bakura's shoulders and threw the thief back down on his back. Marik never finished his sentence; instead, he kissed Bakura's mouth once again. He didn't want to talk, he wanted to _do_ , to express himself through action alone, to confess all the subtle, difficult thoughts in his head without speaking a single word.

Bakura accepted the silence without argument, kissing Marik back with the same hasty, demanding urgency. Marik took the oil and worked his fingers into Bakura's body. Bakura's breath came in quick pulls of air. Marik noticed that simply preparing Bakura made the other male hard again. The sight made Marik's own erection pull hard and straight up from his body. He doused himself in oil and fought his way inside Bakura.

Bakura arched up off the mattress. His face looked both uncomfortable and aroused at the same time, but he didn't complain, so Marik continued. His eyes never left Bakura's expression – in case the discomfort turned into pain. He pushed in and pulled out and watched the flushed glow on Bakura's cheeks spread across his entire face.

As the minutes passed, Marik noticed that the discomfort faded from Bakura's expression, but the aroused flush deepened. A shudder worked its way up and down Marik's body as he watched Bakura's face. The thief's eyes remained shut, and his mouth remained opened as he called out in pleasure.

It hit Marik all at once, that he was with Bakura, that he was actually inside Bakura. The warmth surrounding him belonged to Bakura. The soft, clenching muscles squeezing Marik's manhood belonged to Bakura. The brown legs spread wide on either side of Marik were Bakura's legs, and the voice calling out Marik's name was Bakura's rough, sultry voice. The reality of the situation crashed down on Marik's thoughts, and for the first time in his life, Marik wanted to hold his experiences close instead of pushing them away. Just the _sight_ of Bakura, just the _feel_ of Bakura's body beneath Marik's own skin, was too much for him to bear and Marik curled close to Bakura's broad chest, cumming inside him as Bakura wrapped his legs around Marik's waist.

Marik's heartbeat stampeded across his ribcage. Below him, Bakura breathed heavily. Bakura's erection pressed against Marik's stomach and he realized that Bakura hadn't finished yet. Marik looked up into Bakura's face. "D-do you want to switch?"

Bakura's storm-gray eyes lit up at the suggestion. Marik smiled. He could tell by Bakura's expression that he hadn't expected Marik to offer trading positions.

Bakura slipped out from beneath Marik and hovered just above Marik's back. Bakura lavished kisses along Marik's shoulders. He continued to kiss along Marik's spine as he prepared Marik, adding fingers one at a time to ensure Marik adjusted slowly. Even after using three fingers, the feeling of Bakura entering overwhelmed Marik.

Marik wasn't a virgin to the act of sex itself, but he'd never allowed anyone to fuck him before – or even see him fully naked. The heat of Bakura's body felt comforting against Marik's back, and with each thrust, Bakura exhaled a coo of pleasure into Marik's ear. Marik felt sated from his own orgasm, and it was still an odd experience – nevertheless, the pushes and pulls of Bakura's body sent shivers snaking up Marik's belly. Marik pushed up on his forearms, arching his back a little higher so it could brush against Bakura's sweat-damp skin.

With three, great heaves of his body, Bakura came with Marik's name half-tangled in his throat. His arms wrapped around Marik the moment he finished.

"I love you," Bakura whispered into Marik's hair.

It sounded a little more believable each time he said it. Marik fell asleep in Bakura's arms before he could think more of it. He woke in the morning to sunlight in his eyes. Marik moaned, shielding his eyes with his hand. He blinked, waking up all the way before sitting up. He noticed that the blinds from both windows were pulled up to let the sunlight into the room. On each side of the bed, fresh candles flicked, half a dozen of them. The morning sun pushing through the closest window made the candles a waste, but Marik still felt himself smiling and he leaned over and blew them out.

"Morning."

Marik turned and saw Bakura standing in the doorway. He wore regular clothes, jeans and a orange tank top.

Bakura frowned at two bowls in his hands. "Breakfast is rice. A lot of rice."

"Would have thought you'd be used to simple food – having been born long before the invention of a microwave."

"I got used to modern food before I died." He dropped to the mattress and handed Marik one of the two bowls. "Baldy said we're going back to the ship. They think we can get more information if we challenge people to duels."

"That makes sense." Marik used a pair of chopsticks to scoop rice into his mouth. "And his name is Rishid."

Bakura snorted at Marik's correction.

Marik smirked and stole a bite of rice out of Bakura's bowl.

"Hey, asshole."

"I thought the King of Thieves could stop me before I got away with it."

Bakura replied by stealing two bites of rice from Marik's bowl, shoving both in his mouth and chewing in triumph.

Marik smiled as he watched Bakura eat. "I love you, too."

Bakura's cheeks flared with color, and Marik used the distraction to steal another bite of food from Bakura's bowl. "There." He grinned, popping his prize into his mouth. "Now we're even."


	10. Chapter 9

*****Disclaimer: Polarshipping fluff*****

* * *

They took shelter for the night on a store roof-top. They managed to sneak up to the roof without having to kill too many zombies, but they'd heard moaning and bumping behind most of the closed doors, so they didn't trust the inside to be safe. Up top, a reinforced steel door separated them from any stray undead, and they had a good view of the streets from the west side of the building. It was the safest place they could find on short notice.

Mai leaned against Jonouchi's shoulder, using the blonde as a piece of furniture. On the opposite end of the roof, Yugi and Atem kept watch and spoke in low voices.

"Just like old times." Mai smiled, although there was a touch of bitterness to her voice that she couldn't hide.

"We're going to end this. I mean, the _gods_ sent him. That means shit's finally gonna get better, right?"

"Maybe." Mai shrugged. "Shit happens. With or without zombies."

"That's true," Jonouchi agreed. "Hey, Mai?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna get married?"

"Sure."

Mai felt Jonouchi's muscles tense beneath her body. "Really?"

"Why the hell not?" She sat up so she could look Jonouchi in the face. "Took you long enough to ask, Katsuya."

He grinned at her, boyish as the first time she'd met him. "There's a jewelry store across the street."

"Are we going to pick out rings in the morning?"

He shrugged. "Why wait? Let's go now – before you come to your senses and change your mind."

"Ha! Good idea." She glanced across the roof at Atem and Yugi. "What about Mother Hen? Yugi isn't going to want us to sneak off at night."

Jonouchi stood up and dusted off his jeans. "Eh, we'll be back before he notices we're gone."

Mai raised an eyebrow. "Sure about that?"

"Yeah, piece of cake." He reached over and grabbed Mai's hand. "Come on. It's our wedding adventure. Who else can brag that they fought off a horde of zombies to get their wedding rings?"

"Um . . . everyone that's gotten married in the last two years?" Mai smiled despite herself. Jo had that effect on her. "Still sounds fun, though. Let's do it."

They slipped down the fire escape, stepping as lightly as possible so that they alerted neither zombies nor Yugi. The night air felt warm, but a breeze kept it pleasant. Mai held Jonouchi's hand as they crossed the street, but they kept their eyes to the streets around them. They found the lock already broken, so they invited themselves inside.

Mai turned on her flashlight. One corpse reached for them, but he sat in a wheelchair and didn't have enough sense to wheel himself to them. Jo dropped the blade of his ax into the corpse's skull, frowning. "I can't stand to see people like this."

Mai didn't answer; she'd always seen people as empty shells trying to consume everything in their reach. It didn't bother her to see them the same as they were before. It didn't bother her to kill them. The only thing she regretted was that the others – Yug, Jo, Shizuka, Anzu, Honda – now saw the world like she did. She liked it better when they thought card games were their biggest challenges.

"Well." Jonouchi gestured with arms wide open. "What do you want?"

Mai chuckled. "Do I have a price range?"

Jo snorted as if she'd insulted him. "For my gal? Nah. Anything you want – it's yours."

Mai smirked. "I want hot showers to be a thing again." Her eyes swept across the display cases. "Oh let's see. I need to find something I can show off to Anzu and Shizuka, right? And then a regular band I can wear without having to worry about my finger getting ripped off."

"Geez, Mai. Don't make this sound like a romantic moment or anything."

"Sorry, babe. We're going to have to do all that cutesy shit when we're not in danger of being attacked."

Jonouchi sighed. "I know. Hey, how about this one?"

Without thinking, Jo smashed through the glass case with his ax. Without power, no alarm sounded, but the smashing itself made more than enough noise.

"Jo, what the hell are you doing? Inviting the zombies to our wedding?"

"Sorry. It's not like I have a key or anything."

Mai rolled her eyes and walked over to see what Jo was reaching for in the case. He pulled out a white-gold band set with small diamond chips. Rising from the center of the ring was a round-cut diamond. "Damn, Jo. I never knew you had such good tastes."

"Well, I picked you, didn't I?" he retorted with all the maturity of a thirteen-year-old. "Hold on a moment, let me do this properly." He sank to one knee, ignoring the broken glass and thick layer of dust. "Mai Kujaku, will you marry me?"

She wanted to roll her eyes and call Jo a fucking, cliché bastard, but she couldn't. Not when his brown eyes looked like they belonged to a big, dumb, blond puppy. She nodded, and held out her hand, and watched the grin split Jo's face as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

"It fits." Jonouchi kissed her hand and stood to his feet.

"Of course it does." Mai scuffed up Jo's hair to frustrate him. Luckily, she was a common size.

"Let's get bands and split this place before Yugi freaks out."

"Good idea." Mai nodded. She ran her flashlight over the display cases until they found a matching set of gold bands that fit both of their fingers. Mai opened her mouth to suggest they leave when gunfire echoed across the night air. "Fuck." She swore as she and Jonouchi ran out of the jewelry store with their guns drawn. "You have any ammo left?" She asked.

"Only three shots."

".38's?"

"Yeah."

"Here." Mai reached in her pocket and handed Jo the last of her bullets. "That's all I have."

"Then keep them."

"Fuck that. I'm too pretty to be a widow."

"You're a better shot."

"Take half."

Jo growled, but grabbed three of the six bullets and reloaded his gun. They shot two zombies while crossing the street. More lingered in the black distance, but with only the moonlight and Mai's flashlight, they'd waste their last bullets shooting at the shadows. Mai and Jo raced up the fire escape, pulling the ladder up when they reached the first platform, and then they continued running to the roof.

Mai saw Yugi holding his gun and the Pharaoh holding a sword that looked like it belonged in a museum.

"Where the hell were you guys?" Yugi screamed.

"Sorry, Yug." Jo kept his face turned away. Mai didn't blame him. The look in Yugi's plum-colored eyes could melt ice.

"I don't care about your apologies – answer my damn question!"

"It's my fault!" Mai shouted. She didn't have the heart to see Jo and Yug fight. "I wanted a ring."

"A ring? Mai have you gone fucking crazy? This isn't time for accessorizing."

"She's not that dumb, Yugi." Jonouchi stepped in between Mai and Yugi. With Yugi's height, all Mai could see was Joey's hair with Atem standing off to the side. "And it wasn't her idea. I was the one who didn't want to wait until morning to get her a wedding ring."

"A . . ." Yugi's voice halted.

Mai stepped around Jo in order to show Yugi her hand. "Yeah, we're both idiots. We got a little carried away by the idea."

Yugi holstered his gun and used his sleeve to wipe tears out of his eyes. "Congratulations." He threw his arms around both of them, and Mai felt like a complete asshole.

"Sorry, Yug," Jo muttered.

"It's okay – just let me know next time, okay? You scared the fuck out of me. If something happened to either of you . . ." Yugi pulled away to dry his eyes a second time.

"Forget us, are you okay? We heard gunfire."

Yugi shook his head. "Not us. I thought it was you, and when I turned to check you were both gone."

"I swear, if I ever do anything like that again, Yugi, I'll tell you. I just didn't want you helping us. It was our thing, y'know?"

Atem spoke up for the first time. "You said we were a team, remember? We do things together."

Jo gave Atem a sheepish grin and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I did say something like that. Don't worry. I've learned my lesson."

Atem grinned. "By the way, congratulations."

Jonouchi sighed. "Wish we had a nicer honeymoon than the apocalypse suite at Zombie Hotel."

"Oh, don't worry." Mai grinned. "I'm sure once we get to Kaiba's mansion we can find someplace nice, and it'll piss him off on top of it."

Jonouchi's laughter echoed throughout the warm night air. "That's true! Best. Honeymoon. Ever!"

* * *

"There's got to be a better way." Kek kicked at the corpse he'd decapitated a moment before. "I want a challenge. Three, four, six at a time bores me."

"Only _you_ would get bored with six zombies."

"I want to fight like . . . one hundred all at once."

"Okay, seriously Kek, no more comic books for you. One person can't just fight a hundred corpses."

They both sat on swings at the park, facing opposite directions and competing to see who could go higher without flipping. When one of them spotted a corpse, they'd jump off the swing, kill it, and then race back to pick up where they left off. They didn't have the radio on, so they only attracted one or two at a time save for the occasional cluster that always seemed to travel together.

Kek flew off of his swing, flying past the sand and to the grass. He drew his kukris and dashed towards one such large cluster – seven total. Ryo leaned back so he could watch the upside down fight until his stomach turned and he was forced to drag his feet into the sand to keep his swing from moving. The slower fighting pace gave them more time for conversation between fights, and Ryo found himself enjoying the bits of conversation with his partner.

Kek cleaned his blades in the grass and walked back to Ryo. "See? It's too easy."

Ryo stood up, reaching out and touching Kek's bare, bronzed shoulder. "I think that's why she didn't let you keep your scars."

Kek tilted his head. "Why?"

"So you could move faster. Kill better."

Kek reached back and touched the skin on his shoulder. His fingers brushed over Ryo's fingers as he did so. Kek looked at Ryo, his hair blowing loose in the breeze without its normal ponytail. He winked. "Well, I shouldn't disappoint the gods. Help me find a way to kill more of them."

Ryo sighed and pulled his hand back. "Electronic store. Obstacle course."

Kek laughed. "What?"

"If we go to the electronic store I can wire my little radio to the main speakers. That will play the music loud enough to gather a hundred corpses. But there's no way I'm letting you fight that many all at once. First we build an obstacle course to slow the flux down and give you more control of the battle."

"You're . . . actually going to help me do this?"

"Well, like you said, you're setting their souls free, right? The more you kill, the more people you save. Besides . . ." Ryo gave Kek a helpless smile. "You look so happy when you're slashing things."

* * *

"Oh goody, Market Town." Mai sang in false joy as they climbed the ladder that'd take them to the homespun village.

As soon as they reached the nearest roof, Jonouchi grabbed her hand and dragged her away. "Come on. I want you to _see_ all the effort we put into trying to find you."

"C'mon, Jo. Can't we just hang on the outskirts in case we need to make an escape?"

"Nope. Let's go." He dragged her away.

Yugi smiled. Jonouchi hadn't stopped grinning since they came back from their miniature diamond heist. He hated losing Mai, but he was glad to see that the experience finally knocked some sense into Jonouchi. Yugi already hoped they'd have at least one child together. He wanted his children, and Honda's, and Jo's to grow up friends as they had.

"This place is bigger than I'd imagined."

Yugi turned towards Atem. His violet eyes scanned across the roof tops. Wooden planks and strips of sheet metal formed bridges and walkways from rooftop to rooftop. Before the plague, Market Town was in a low-income area of mostly apartment buildings. Many of the apartments had the same square shape, the same flat roofs, and stood the same height. It had looked depressing compared to more urban areas of glittering steel and glass, or the more suburban areas of nice houses and small lawns, but now it looked safe – as safe as anywhere could be.

People fashioned lean-to huts and small houses out of any spare material they could find. They painted the walls with scavenged paint. A stripe of yellow here, a smear of green there, a mostly white-washed hut with orange and blue trim, every home and shop looked unique if not a little thrown-together.

Yugi reached into his knapsack and pulled out two large, dark hoodies. He handed one to Atem. "Here, put this on."

Atem scowled at the fabric. "It's hot outside."

Yugi squirmed into the sweatshirt and pulled the hood up to hide his distinctive hair. "I know, but if they see you, they might think you're me and go a little crazy."

Atem looked at Yugi. He didn't have to say any words, Yugi knew his question without Atem speaking. "Everyone knows who I am because of Duel Monsters, and Duel Monsters has become . . ." Yugi frowned. "Like a religion in Domino City since the dead started rising."

"A . . . religion?"

"Yes. I know that sounds absurd, but it's like they worship the game. There's nothing else to do now except survive. I guess it's people's way of coping through all of that."

"Alright." Atem slipped the hoodie over his head and used the hood to hide his hair. "But there's something else you're not telling me, Aibou. What is it?"

Yugi turned away. "I wish you didn't know me so well. I guess I should have known I wouldn't be able to hide it from you."

"Hide what?"

Yugi sighed. He walked to the edge of the building and stared off the roof, out into the bright lazuli sky. "I pawned Obelisk to buy all the seeds and chickens. We were going to starve if I didn't do something. And now I'm going to sell Ra in order to get the weapons and ammo we need if we're going to get you to Kaiba's house alive."

"Yugi . . . you're pawning the god cards?"

Yugi wasn't sure exactly how Atem felt beyond surprised, and he missed the days when they shared one body and knew each other as well as they knew themselves. "Our friends are everything. If we can end this – if there's even a small hope – then I'll sell every card I have for that hope, and I'll gamble even my own life for that hope. You may think giving up the god cards is a difficult decision, but it's not. It's like they're helping me do what I need to do to save my friends, and I'll always be grateful to them for that opportunity."

Atem rested his hand on Yugi's shoulder. Yugi felt the weight of Atem's palm through the thick fabric, and it comforted him.

"Yugi," Atem said, "whatever you do, I'm behind you. Please don't ever feel like you need to hide anything from me again."

Yugi squeezed the Pharaoh in a hug. "Thanks. Thanks for understanding. I never wanted to hide anything from you, I just didn't want you to feel guilty. I didn't want you to think I was sacrificing anything I couldn't live without." Yugi smiled. "Come on."

* * *

Bakura stood off to the side as Rishid played cards with an old man who liked to ramble as he played. They were learning a lot of information – but Bakura doubted any of it would be useful in their search for the Millennium Tome. Bakura crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against an air conditioning unit covered in rust and lichen. Sweat tickled the back of his neck, and Bakura wished he could find a cooler, shady spot to nap like he did in the afternoons when he was a thief in Egypt.

He liked watching Marik watch Rishid play. Marik's face was drawn into a serious, contemplative scowl as he analyzed strategies in his head. It reminded Bakura of their disastrous game against Marik's dark half, but now that it was all over with, Bakura thought of that duel with near fondness. It had been, after all, one of the moments that brought he and Marik together.

Ishizu wandered next to Bakura. Between her poise and the silence of her footsteps, Bakura thought she could have made a phenomenal thief herself, if she had been a touch more like her brother instead of the very definition of subservient.

She gestured to the game. "If you'd like, we could find a deck for you to use as well."

"No." The word flung itself from Bakura's mouth before he had a chance to think about it. He'd almost shouted it. Bakura turned away, speaking at a normal volume. "No, I'm fine."

"Oh?"

Such a simple syllable, and yet such an elaborate trap lay within the question. Bakura exhaled and answered anyway. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be separated from your ka for thousands of years? It's like you can't breathe, but you don't die. You just gasp, knowing something's missing but unable to fill the emptiness in your center."

"And Duel Monsters was based off of the Stone Tablets that Pegasus saw in Egypt," Ishizu said.

"Every card represents a _ba_ that couldn't become an _akh_ because their _ka_ was trapped in stone for three thousand years." Bakura kept his eyes on Marik as he spoke. "Tell me, you had the Necklace, did you realize that Duel Monsters cards carried a touch of Shadow Magic in them?"

"Yes. I did notice that."

"Now that the _ka's_ captured in stone by the Millennium Items have been freed, some of that magic should have dissipated, wouldn't you think?" Bakura shifted his eyes to see Ishizu's reaction.

Her expression mirrored her brother's, serious and analytical. "You're right. After the Ceremonial Duel, Duel Monsters should have became a harmless trading card game."

"But?" His own single syllable, his own verbal trap.

Ishizu sighed. "But there's more. More Shadow Magic than before. Not enough to play Shadow Games, but enough to make my head hurt each time Rishid plays a game."

"And I'm staying far away from it." Bakura snorted, returning his gaze back to Marik – the reason he was among the living. Not Shadows this time, not revenge, not killing Atem, Bakura came back for Marik, and he was going to stay with Marik until the inevitability of old age separated them for a brief moment before they reunited in Aaru forever. That's all Bakura wanted now. "Screw card games, and fuck Shadow Magic."

A soft chuckle, almost a breath, exhaled from Ishizu's mouth. "You're . . . an unpredictable character, Bakura."

He shrugged.

"Is that one of Marik's bracelets you're wearing?"

Bakura started when Ishizu mentioned the gold bracelet around his wrist. His hand reflexively reached out and covered the jewelry as if to hide it. "I, uh, stole it."

Ishizu laughed again. "Yes. I'm sure it was a bracelet you stole from my brother and not his heart."

"Is Baldy done with his stupid game yet?" Bakura walked away from Ishizu to avoid further conversation.

A child kept score on the rooftop with a nub of chalk. The old man's life points dropped to zero as Bakura stood next to Marik.

"Ah, that was a good game." The old man grinned with his toothless mouth. "I suppose you want to take a card now?"

Rishid bowed low. "I was playing for fun, grandfather. Keep your cards."

The old man shook his head. "Rules are rules."

"I haven't been to Domino in years. Tell me about the town. What have I missed?"

"Besides corpses rising from their death and eating the living? There's not that much to know. The main city is pretty bare now except for the dead, but there's good scavenging still in the suburbs. Stay away from the docks because that's where the thugs hang out. Stay away from the hospital because you won't make it one block before you're devoured. And if you find anything you want to trade, go to Market Town."

"Market Town?"

"In the old slums near the center of town. You'll see settlements scattered across Domino, but the largest one is there."

Rishid stood up, bowing again. "Thank you."

The four travelers walked away, leaving the building by the interior stairs. The apartments had been cleared of undead; however the lack of air or proper circulation made it insufferable to stay inside, which was why the family stayed on the roof where the breeze could reach them.

"First we'll need some things worth trading," Marik said. "Then we should check out that town the old man talked about. More people mean more of a chance to find out something useful."


	11. Chapter 10

A narrow strip of free space between several stalls served as a back alley. Yugi walked with his gun drawn. He still believed people were inherently good, but towns attracted thieves and Yugi knew that without a weapon, his size advertised him as an easy mark. At the end of the alley, a green and yellow tent stretched out to both the right and left. Christmas lights, the kind one saw in Western films, outlined the tent.

Shonin, the merchant that lived in the tent, had the lights connected to a car battery. It was nothing more than a show of power, a reminder that he had enough connections to have remnants of electricity while everyone else taught themselves how to make wick-lamps with string, or rope, and rancid cooking oil salvaged from the kitchens of the dead.

He sat cross-legged on a mat in front of his tent. A dusky-skinned male with jet black hair, a mustache, and bright, hazel eyes that never smiled although his mouth never stopped smiling.

"My friend has come to visit me again." He never called Yugi by name out loud, otherwise what was the use of Yugi wearing the hoodie?

"I need weapons. Guns, ammo, explosives; also, though I'm not sure you'd have one in your collection, a scimitar."

"Scimitar? No, no, my friend, you want a katana, a fine samurai blade."

"One you found in a gift shop for Western tourists? No thank you." Yugi shook his head. "It would break at the tang the first time it saw a fight. Besides, even a good sword is useless if you don't know how to use it."

Shonin sighed, as if Yugi disappointed him. "Maybe I have such a sword for my friend, but the question is, what does my friend have for me?"

Yugi reached into his faded blue rucksack and pulled out a small box. He placed the box in Shonin's opened hands. The merchant opened the box; his face beamed. "Give me three hours and everything you want will be yours."

"Until then." Yugi took the box back from the shop keep and stowed it back into his bag.

He frowned. "My dear friend, I would think you didn't trust me."

Yugi shrugged and smiled his biggest smile. "I just want to hold it a little longer before I have to say good bye."

Shonin heaved a dramatic, well-practiced sigh. "Very well. Go into the tent. My wife will serve lunch while I gather up your order."

The tent was dim and stuffy, but smelt like curry which Yugi enjoyed. Spices, like lights, had become another thing for flaunting status over other survivors, but nothing compared to having good Duel Monster Cards.

Shonin's wife served them curry over rice. Yugi suspected the meat was dog, but he thought better than to say it out loud because he didn't think Atem would want to know. They ate and drank a tea brewed from roasted dandelion roots.

It took five hours instead of three, but Shonin returned with everything Yugi wanted.

"It was hard to get all the ammo," Shonin confessed. "Ammo is getting as scarce as unexpired canned food. Fletchers are springing up all over the city. Only a few have the skill, though. Many sell warped arrows. Next time my friend comes to me for weapons, it may be a bow and not a gun he seeks."

"I'll keep that in mind," Yugi said, although after finding the Tome, Yugi hoped any shooting he did with a bow would be for hunting food, not zombies. "Let's see what you think my Ra card is worth."

Shonin gave a little bow and led them back out of the tent. Yugi blinked until the sunlight didn't sting his eyes and stared down into the crate Shonin brought. The box contained a shotgun, two semi-automatic rifles, and a large handgun with a silencer. More important than the guns were the boxes of ammo. Not only did Shonin provide rounds for the new guns, but Yugi's and Jonouchi's current guns as well. He checked the boxes, to verify that they were indeed filled with bullets and the correct ones.

"Again, my friend does not trust me."

Yugi ignored him. He noticed that the box also contained a bundle of dynamite sticks. They reminded Yugi of the cartoons Pegasus loved watching, and the memory jarred Yugi. More and more he'd been thinking about his time with Atem ten years ago. Logical enough since Atem returned and stood next to Yugi, but there was something else, something that felt like a Shadow Game, and it surrounded the city and gave Yugi the chills.

He gestured to a belt of grenades. "Just pull the pin and throw, right?"

Shonin nodded his head. "Shame, that it's so easy to kill a man, even a dead one."

Yugi nodded. He looked up at Shonin. "And the sword?"

"Ah, that is in my room. I'll retrieve it." Shonin disappeared beneath the tent flap.

"I don't like him," Atem whispered.

"He's not a _bad_ person, just a stingy, selfish one."

"If he's not bad, why'd you check each box of bullets?"

Yugi smiled. "It doesn't hurt to be safe. He is what he is."

Atem huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. A strip of black and magenta hair poked from under his hood. "It'd be better if we didn't have to deal with this sort."

"Takes all kinds to make a village." Yugi shrugged.

Shonin returned with a bound-up cloth in his hand. "You're in luck. A week ago a traveler from Egypt appeared. He traded this sword for information about Domino." Shonin unwrapped the sword and handed it to Yugi.

Yugi gave the sword to Atem. "Here. Is it balanced right?"

Atem tested the sword, steel flashing silver in the sun. "This is a good weapon. Do you know where the man who gave it to you is now?"

"No. I haven't seen him since that day. Easy to recognize, though. He wore a brown robe and had scars all over his body – from the tips of his fingers to the tip of his nose."

"From fighting?" Yugi asked.

"No, the scars looked like letters – Egyptian writing, like in a pyramid." Shonin grinned. "I'll expect extra payment for that information, of course."

"I can get these weapons somewhere else." Yugi frowned. "Any merchant would be happy to get their hands on a god card."

"The weapons, yes. The sword and ammo? No, my friend. You won't find this much ammo anywhere else in Domino City. I lost three of my scouts just to bring you this much."

Yugi's eyes widened at the news. He felt the blood of the dead strangers warm and slick on his hands, and no matter how many times Yugi thought that the sacrifice was necessary to save everyone else – that a few lives were worth ending the plague – Yugi couldn't shake the guilt clogging his throat. It didn't help knowing that Shonin was willing to sacrifice human lives for a god card – it was just a trading card!

"Here." Atem pulled out his bronze scimitar and sheathed the steel one. "Take this for the information."

"Bronze won't protect a man from the dead."

"That is a three-thousand year-old family heirloom." Atem smirked. "It once belonged to a great Pharaoh. It may not cut into a skull as well as a modern weapon, but it'd look quite handsome hanging from your door to show everyone that you have the luxury of owning antiques. Don't you think so, Yugi?"

"Indeed." Yugi nodded, keeping a smile on his face while trying not to vomit at the thought of _three lost lives_. "Very prestigious."

Shonin gave them another weary, dramatic sigh. "Oh very well, but only because you are my best customer. You're practically swindling me."

 _Three, human, lives._

Yugi retrieved his Ra card. Holding it so that Shonin could see his prize, but not yet touch it. "So about this scarred man . . . what information did he get from you?"

"Nothing interesting. He wanted to know about Domino as any foreigner would. He was quite impressed with the ingenuity of our little Market Town, and very happy to hear that our last census reported one-hundred villagers."

"That is good to hear," Yugi agreed. "I'm also happy so many survived. In the movies, it always seemed like only a handful of people survived, but I guess if this has taught us anything, it's that the movies were all wrong."

Shonin nodded like a wise, old sage, although Yugi doubted the man ever watched a zombie movie before.

"Was there anything else you told him? Or that he told you?"

"No, he had boring questions about this village and the other settlements. Other than that, we talked of Duel Monsters. If my friend would like to meet this man, I could slip up and blurt out your name the next time he comes to trade."

"No need. He reminded me of someone I knew from Egypt, that's all. Although, if you could get his name for me, there might be a Swords of Revealing Light in it for you."

Shonin bowed low and then plopped down on the cushion he sat on while smoking his pipe each evening. Yugi and Atem loaded their rucksacks up with the boxes of ammo and dynamite, and slung the riffles over their shoulders. Atem held the handgun while Yugi carried the shotgun.

"Come on." Yugi started walking. "Let's find Jo and Mai so they can help us carry all of this."

Atem nodded without saying another word as they took off.

* * *

As Ryo wired speakers around the roof of Domino's electronics store, Kek worked on building an obstacle course. They worked most the day before on ramps, pits, booby traps, and other obstacles, but had to stop once the sun went down. They woke up before dawn, ate an odd breakfast of fire-charred snake and plums, and went back to work on their project.

Kek appeared on the roof as Ryo finished the last of his wiring. He stared at a rough blueprint Ryo had drawn for him before they started. "Okay, everything looks more or less like you drew it. I'm rather proud of the _**chevaux de frise**_ I made around the perimeter."

"I'm surprised we found enough wood. Did you put up the barbed wire as well?"

"Yup. There's only certain entry points they can enter from. Holy shit, Ryo, do you have any idea how excited I am? This is like my very own amusement park."

Ryo rolled his eyes. "I'm so happy for you. I, on the other hand, feel like I might vomit my nerves out of my stomach."

Kek leaned over and kissed Ryo on the forehead. "Don't worry. I got this."

"Regardless." Ryo picked up a long bow that he and Kek liberated from the museum on their way to the electronic store. It had been easy the second time, since Kek killed most of the corpses haunting the museum when he and Ryo first met. "I'll keep an eye on you and provide back-up if you get overwhelmed. I'm not as good with a bow as I am with my naginata, but I should be able to cover your escape if it comes to that."

"Okay, just don't shoot too many of them."

"Oh trust me, I don't have enough arrows to waste. I'll only shoot if I have to. You can have all the _fun_ by yourself otherwise."

Kek's manic, expressive face twisted into something joyous and fearsome, the look of a demon-possessed child on Christmas morning. "You're the best, Ryo!" He reached into his rucksack and pulled out a small, paper bag. "Here. I snuck off before you woke up this morning and got you a present."

Ryo sighed, smiling. He looked in the bag, looking back up at Kek with a bigger smile. "Cherries?"

"Yup. Most of them weren't ready yet, but I picked what I could for you. A few more weeks and we'll have all we can eat."

Ryo stuck one into his mouth, closing his eyes and sighing. "They're a little tart, but this is the closest I've come to dessert in years. Thank you." Ryo spit the pit out and ate a second one.

Kek used Ryo's cherry-distracted euphoria to steal a kiss. Ryo moaned, slipping his tongue into Kek's mouth so that Kek could taste the cherry juice off of Ryo's tongue.

"Don't you dare die," Ryo breathed into Kek's ear. "I've gotten used to three square meals a day and a warm body to hold at night. The zombie apocalypse isn't any fun without you."

"You bitched all night yesterday when I served dinner."

"You made me eat _rats_."

"But were they not tasty?"

"They were _rats_."

"But were they not tasty?"

Ryo rolled his eyes. "I mean, I've had take-out that was worse, but they sure weren't cream puffs."

"If I find any cream puffs running around I'll be sure to hunt and kill them for you."

"You're such a dork." Ryo smacked Kek's shoulder. "Go and kill your hundred zombies. Hope you're in a mood, because you'll probably end up with a lot more than that."

Kek threw his head back and cackled. "I hope so!" Kek ran to the edge of the roof where they had a rope ladder. Getting to the roof had been difficult. They had to crawl through a maintenance shoot that gave Ryo claustrophobia and couldn't serve as an escape route in case of an emergency, so they made the rope ladder before they'd started building Kek's death-land in the store's parking lot.

"What music are you playing?" he asked as he crouched near the ladder.

Ryo flashed a blank CD with "Hide" written on the label with black marker. "A mix of my favorite songs."

"Is it a good soundtrack for slaughtering the undead?"

"Oh . . . I think it is. I'll play it and see if you agree."

* * *

By the time they found Jonouchi and Mai, they had to rent an inn to spend the night. At least they called it an inn. The building they slept in was a neo-cubist architectural experiment made of tarp, brick, and sheets of tin. Instead of beds, they slept in odd hammocks that hovered so high above the ground that they needed to climb into them with ladders built into the walls.

A simple oil and wick lamp sat on a stool in each corner, giving the room an unsettling glow. In the heat, the smell of too many bodies close together made the room stuffy, although the inn's one virtue had been the cistern that provided enough water for drinking and washing.

Atem stared at the wall so he didn't have to look at the dingy room in which they slept. Someone snored, and Atem wasn't sure if it was one of the strangers sleeping across the room or Jonouchi. He closed his eyes and tried to remember Aaru.

In the fields of Aaru, the wind scooped up golden reeds, thin and glowing like filaments of light, and blew the strands up into the air. Atem often walked in the fields with his mother and father, telling them stories of everything that had happened. His time in Egypt as a Pharaoh after his father, his time with Yugi and their friends, he'd talk and they'd listen, and they'd all walk through threads of gold.

With thoughts of Paradise, Atem managed to doze in the hot room. He awoke the next morning to Yugi's voice.

"Get up, sleepy head! We need to hurry up and eat breakfast so we can go. We're two days behind schedule and Anzu's probably having an anxiety attack already."

Atem slipped the hoodie back over his head and scrambled out of the hammock. He almost fell as he reached for the ladder, but he managed to stabilize himself and climb down without further incident. Atem couldn't wait to leave the city and remove the hoodie Yugi made him wear. He looked at his partner, wondering how Yugi managed to smile while wearing the thick hood in the hot room.

They ate eggs with sauteed mushrooms and onions.

"Isn't it great that people figured out how to convert the roofs to gardens? We would have all starved by now if people weren't so resourceful."

"I miss cereal," Jonouchi confessed, his hair unbrushed and flicked up in every direction.

Mai laughed. "Ice cream. I'd kill for a pint of mint chocolate chip. What about you, Yug?"

"Double cheese burger with fries."

Mai nodded. "I saw the burger joint we used to all hang out at the other day. Someone had stacked up a mountain of corpses and burned them. I saw an old lady scavenging and she said two angels did it."

"Two angels?" Jonouchi blurted out. "What was she? Crazy?"

"Probably." Mai shrugged. "If she didn't have dementia before the dead came back to life, I don't see the end of the world helping her sanity much. She looked like she was homeless long before everything fell apart."

"I hope it was angels." Yugi looked off to an unseen distance. "Maybe they'll help us get past the hospital, so we can reach Seto's place safely." He blinked back to reality. "Speaking of, we better go."

They washed up and filled their canteens from the cistern before breaking out into the rest of the city. Yugi insisted they stop by the town square's bulletin board in case Anzu checked it for news. He traded a package of instant oatmeal for a sheet of paper and wrote a note in hieratic.

"Will she be able to read that?" Atem asked.

Yugi nodded. "We learned it in college. Ishizu would email us lessons and we'd do them in our spare time – not that we really had spare time, but that didn't stop us from learning it anyways."

"We never write notes in Kanji because then anyone can use that information. Then someone could go to The Place and pretend like they saw us here to try and get the others to let their guard down."

Atem shook his head.

Yugi used a pin to attach the note. "Most people aren't that bad, but we like to be safe."

"Most aren't, but the ones who are . . ." Mai crossed her arms over her chest. "Several women got raped that way last year. They never found the men, either."

Jonouchi clenched his hand into a fist. "I'd fucking kill anyone who tried that."

"Anzu isn't stupid." Yugi walked away from the board and the others followed him. "Let's not even talk about it. We have enough real problems to waste time with possible ones."

Atem looked around the city as they walked in silence. What he saw, overall, was people trying their hardest to scrape by. Atem couldn't help but feel sorry for them. He also saw a lot of Duel Monster games. Each time people played, or called out for a duel, Yugi dropped his head lower and acted like he couldn't see or hear them.

"I know we're in a hurry," Atem said as they crossed the wooden bridges connecting the roofs. "But you act like you don't like Duel Monsters anymore."

"It's not that." Yugi shrugged. "I just don't like playing here."

"Why not?"

Yugi shrugged again. "I get . . . an uneasy feeling when I play. It reminds me of when we fought Pegasus, or Marik's darker half."

Atem tilted his head to the side. "Like a Shadow Game?"

"Yeah . . . I guess so. I know that's impossible because the Items are gone, but I can't shake that heavy, bad feeling no matter how hard I try."

"It has kinda turned into a cult," Jonouchi added.

Atem watched a group of young boys playing off in a corner. Their eyes stared at the cards; their lips curled in anxious grins, their hands held their cards tight as if someone might try and steal them. There was something eerie in the sight. They didn't look like kids playing a game. They looked like heroin addicts pushing a needle into their veins.

"Here's our exit." Yugi gestured to a ledge with a rope ladder fastened to it. "The hospital is a good walk from here, but we should make it before dark and that's important."

"So . . ." Mai pressed her hands against her hips. "We're really doing this? Going past the hospital to try and get to Kaiba's mansion?"

Yugi nodded. "I truly think it's our best option. Otherwise, we'd have to search each house and shop individually – that's just as suicidal as pushing past the hospital, only it'd take longer."

"Good point." Mai frowned. "Each house we checked is another chance to die or get bit. Better we just deal with all the bastards at once, right?"

"We have grenades." Yugi winked at her. "And there's four of us. It'll be like playing Left 4 Dead."

"I hope not." Mai started down the ladder. "Jo's horrible at that game."

"Thanks, babe. You sure know how to make a guy feel confident."

"Don't worry. I trust you in real life – just not in video games. In a game, I'd rather have Ryo getting my back."

Yugi chuckled. "He was our official witch-hunter, wasn't he? I can't remember how many times he saved our asses when we played."

Mai hopped down to the ground, sighing. "I hate imagining him out there somewhere by himself."

"He's okay." Yugi stepped off of the ladder and onto the street below. "You were okay, and he's okay, too."

"Three o'clock." Jonouchi grabbed his ax.

Atem turned; down the alley, all but hidden in shadow, two corpses staggered towards them. Atem unsheathed his new sword.

"Don't fight unless you have to," Yugi said beside him. "We're here to protect you."

"We'll get it," Jonouchi said, glancing at Mai as he said it.

"You're learning." She grinned.

"You know you threw that fit the other day, but I was the one that asked you to go to Kaiba's with us."

Mai blinked a moment and then started to laugh. "Okay. You got me there, but that argument was worth frustrating you into saying you love me."

Jonouchi snorted. "Let's go kill zombies."

Atem frowned at Yugi as soon as they ran off. "I'll pull my own weight."

"Only you can use the Tome to save us," Yugi insisted. "Besides, we'll all have to fight. A lot of undead hang around Market Town, and there will be more than we can count near the hospital."


	12. Chapter 11

*****Disclaimer: Citronshipping Lemon.*****

* * *

"I love how when I stole from the dead it was tomb-robbing, and I was evil, but now it's called scavenging and it's not only morally acceptable, but _en vogue_." Bakura searched cupboards and drawers for anything they needed or could use for trade.

The house had a small kitchen, clean if not dusty, with a well-stocked pantry. Bakura loaded his rucksack with several bags of rice, dried yuba, adzuki beans, and soba noodles that he _thought_ were still good. At least Bakura couldn't see any mold or signs of decay through the clear packaging.

"Well, Bakura, life's a bitch."

"Shut-up, Marik."

Marik snickered, and Bakura noticed he kept one hand behind his back. "You should be nicer to me."

"Yeah? Why?" Bakura asked.

"Because I love you."

Bakura crossed his arms over his chest, giving Marik his full attention. "I have a feeling you might stop loving me if I was ever _too_ nice to you."

"Then be nice to me because I have a surprise for you."

"I hate surprises, especially your surprises. Surprise, my alter ego is going to kill us all! Surprise, he has the fucking Winged Dragon of Ra! Surprise, guess who gets to duel him? Don't worry, Bakura, I know how to beat god. Ha!"

"Well, at least you aren't the type to hold a grudge about things like that."

They both laughed at Marik's ironic retort.

"What's behind your back?"

"Oh? This? A surprise. I guess you don't want it since you hate my surprises."

Bakura watched Marik. His slender arm half hid behind his back, and the pose showed off the muscles in Marik's shoulders. The sun crept into the kitchen through the blinds, and it lit up Marik's hair like pyrite. He wore a dark purple polo shirt, faded from long wear, but it fit him well, as did his jeans.

Bakura grinned at the image before him. He walked to the island counter in the center of the kitchen and lifted himself onto it. "Oh I'm sure I'll hate it, but you should show it to me anyway."

Marik walked up to where Bakura sat. He stood close to the counter, fitting himself nicely in between Bakura's parted legs. He pulled his hand from behind his back, flashing a small bottle. "It's silicon based."

"So . . ." Bakura grinned. "When were we suppose to meet back up with your siblings?"

"We have two hours and twenty-seven minutes."

"And I've already filled my pack with food."

"And I've filled mine with soap and toiletries. Whoever owned this place loved to buy things in bulk – I found three bottles of this stuff."

Bakura undid his belt and pants and dropped both to the ground.

Marik grinned. "Is that a suggestion?"

"No," Bakura said, spreading his legs wider as he sat on the counter. "That was a command."

"Yes, make commands now, but I'll have you begging soon enough."

"I hope so."

Marik kissed Bakura's shoulder. He slipped off the orange tank top and exposed more toffee-colored flesh. "I feel guilty," Marik whispered.

"Why?"

"No one should be this happy when the world's gone to hell."

"This world's always been hell."

Marik laughed, his lips dragging across Bakura's skin. "You've been to Paradise, so I guess you'd know."

"One day I'll show you my favorite gardens, and the great library in Alexander is still intact in Aaru."

"Sounds good, but I'm in no hurry."

"It doesn't matter how long. Time doesn't mean anything." Bakura lifted up Marik's face so he could kiss his mouth.

As they kissed, Marik coated Bakura with lube. He inserted one finger and then another.

"More," Bakura whispered.

Marik added a third. Their mouths stayed pressed together as Marik's fingers worked. Bakura held Marik, his breath tickling Marik's ear. "Use all of them."

Marik grunted acquiescence and shifted his fingers to accommodate Bakura's request. Bakura scooted closer to the edge of the counter, raising his knees up and planting the heels of his feet on the counter ledge so Marik had more room to work.

Bakura wasn't sure what made him ask Marik to fist him, but he was glad he had asked. Bakura felt as if he'd swallowed the sky and Marik was inside him splitting it into night and day like only a god could.

"Marik . . . Marik . . . Marik . . ." each exhale was his lover's name echoing from his lips.

Bakura reached down and touched his lube-slick thigh, coating his fingers with the clear gel. Covered in lube, Bakura began stroking himself, Marik's hand still moving inside him. He couldn't sit upright; Bakura leaned back until he felt the smooth, cool countertop pressed against his back. He felt himself climbing, felt the pleasure welling to a great, burgeoning swell in his loins. Before it could crest and break over his hand, Bakura let go of himself. He managed to stop himself from ejaculating, but a thick, lingering, near-orgasmic tremble of pleasure coursed through him, and Bakura rode it for as long as he could.

"What do you want me to do?" Marik asked, his voice a husky, breathless mess.

For a moment, Bakura thought it was Marik's attempt to get him to beg after all, but when Bakura looked up into Marik's bright, dilated, lavender eyes, he realized that Marik simply wanted to please him.

"Take me," he whispered; his voice sweet and old like a ballad.

Marik all but leapt onto the counter. He straddled Bakura's left leg, twisting Bakura on his side and hooking Bakura's right leg over Marik's scarred, left shoulder. Bakura couldn't help but scream when Marik started thrusting.

"Yes! Marik!"

"Fuck. Bakura." Marik returned Bakura's screams with controlled growls.

Bakura gripped the counter's ledge and shouted Marik's name again. He grabbed himself a second time, incapable of holding back any longer. When he came, he poured out over his hand, on the counter, on the floor, and on Marik's thigh. His ears rang, and his chest almost hurt with the pounding of his heart. It only took minutes before Marik screamed as well. He pulled out and Bakura used a dish towel to clean himself and Marik.

When finished, he lay sprawled and naked on some dead person's kitchen counter, staring at dust motes and cobwebs. "If anyone should feel guilty . . . it should be me. I stole this time from the gods." Bakura started laughing, loud, wicked, haughty. "But I never did feel bad for stealing. The gods stole everything from me first. They gave it back – eventually, and one day I'll give them this life back – eventually."

"Eventually." Marik lay beside him, staring at the same dust motes and the same cobwebs. "The counter isn't comfortable. Let's take a nap on the bed and then we'll find Rishid and Ishizu."

* * *

They hadn't imagined how thick the press would be. Even during the day, a steady flow of undead advanced towards them, too many to fight. Yugi used a grenade on a large cluster far down the street, hoping to buy them some time to reload.

The blast roared louder than Yugi could have imagined, and the shock of it sent them all to the ground, leaving them exposed to the open maws of the hungry dead.

Atem was first on his feet, sword drawn. He sent two to the ground and severed the hand of a third before Yugi could even get to his feet. They'd all gotten proficient with weapons over the last two years – their survival demanded they learn quick and well, but with Atem, Yugi could see the difference that a life spent training made. Yugi had trouble believing that the dark-skinned Egyptian fighting the undead was the same person they'd found standing on a dumpster a few days ago. Yugi wondered what had changed in Atem's heart to give him the will to fight.

The noise from the grenade drew more corpses out from the shadows, a mob of fish-belly white and bruised gray. Empty eye sockets glared at them. These were the first corpses to rise, the ones who died in the hospital of plague, and it showed with their paper-tight, almost mummified skin, and in their smell – dry and sickly spiced instead of the rancid stench of a fresh corpse.

"Come on!" Yugi ran down the street, waving the others to follow him. They fought their way down the street. It was only three blocks to Kaiba's, and they couldn't fail. Yugi's mind spun in a spiral. He shot corpses to the ground, always pressing forward, always pressing forward, both his legs and his thoughts.

"Fuck!" Jonouchi swore as the corpses closed in.

"We can make it! Run!" Yugi followed his own order, shooting anything that came towards them.

They kept close together. Atem charged the front while the rest of them used guns to keep the sides and rear clear. Sweat and dust matted against their foreheads; the wind blew smoke from one of the grenades into their faces.

To the south, the hospital rose up into the sky. The paint was weathered and moss-coated. Shattered windows and charred sections of building greeted them as they passed. Yugi scanned the parking lot and noticed more dead drawing near in union, a wave of dead flesh and bone with opened mouths.

"Uh, Yug?" Jo cried out, using the shotgun to drive the closest zombies back.

"I see them!" Yugi threw another grenade, making sure he threw it further. This time, they ducked behind a car to protect themselves from the aftershock.

When they jumped back to their feet, Yugi checked the parking lot. Not only did the blast manage to kill a handful of corpses, but the remaining ones lay sprawled on the pavement. "Go!" Yugi sprinted forward and the others followed him.

Their luck lasted a brief minute before more undead blocked their path.

"There's no way through that!" Mai stopped in her tracks, shooting, and backing away. "We need to retreat!"

"No!" Yugi insisted. "There'll be more that way. We have to go forward!"

"We won't make it!"

Yugi ran. A pair of hands reached for him, but he spun out of the way. The others followed, trying to clear a path as best they could.

There were too many.

 _They couldn't die._

There were too many.

 _He promised Anzu._

There were too many.

 _He promised Atem he'd protect him._

Yugi didn't have time to reload. He used his ax to disable the corpses, cutting legs and arms since he couldn't reach their heads.

 _He couldn't die in the street when he promised Anzu he'd come back!_

Yugi stood, his back pressed with Atem. Jonouchi and Mai stood back to back as well. From every side, corpses closed in.

"I'm sorry," Yugi whispered, still holding his ax, still fighting.

Something boomed from the north.

 _Speakers_?

Yugi heard the distinct sound of bass, surreal in the two-year quiet created by the utter lack of electricity. The corpses sensed the vibrations humming through the air. Not all of them left, the closest ones still reached out, but enough of the herd thinned to give them hope.

"Now! Hurry!" Atem broke formation, pushing through bodies and leaving lumps of dead flesh on the ground behind him.

The bass continued the thump in the air. The longer it played, the more corpses wandered off to the louder noise. Kaiba's mansion appeared in the east.

"Yes!" Jonouchi cheered. "I can see the mansion!"

"Hell, maybe we will live!" Mai laughed. Instead of her usual handguns, she now held one of the two semi-automatics. She used short bursts of fire to keep the zombies away from them, and Yugi marveled at her control of the weapon. He couldn't have managed it. He tried after they left Market Town, but the buck of the gun was too much for him and he gave up on it.

They stopped running, gasping for quick breaths. There were still corpses closing in, always at the same, steady pace – thank the gods they didn't run – but so many of the herd had wandered off that they could catch their breath.

"That's Zilch," Yugi said, bent over with the ax handle against his knees as he tried to slow his breathing.

"It's what?" Atem asked.

"The band playing on the speakers. It's Zilch."

"No offense, Yug, but who fucking cares what band's playing? It saved our ass and that's great, but we need to go."

"I know." Yugi straightened up, stowing his ax and reloading his gun. "It's just . . . that's one of Ryo's favorite bands. I just thought—"

"Sweetie, don't," Mai interrupted him, her face sad. "What are the odds, Yugi? That music is really popular."

"I mean, I wanted to hope . . ."

"I don't think Ryo's crazy enough to try and lure every zombie in Domino towards him." Jonouchi shook his head.

"You're right. Sorry. Let's go." Yugi aimed at a corpse in range and dropped it to the ground before walking the rest of the way to Kaiba's mansion.

Black grime covered them, clinging to them by their own sweat, their faces flushed with the exertion of running and fighting, their clothes looked rumpled and filthy, but they were all alive and unhurt. Yugi couldn't help but think, that if not Ryo, maybe that old woman had been right and they'd just been saved by angels.

* * *

 _Fuck track number six._

 _I am absolute corruption . . . absolute corruption._

 _I want to fuck you . . . in the ass . . . until you bleed!_

Ryo sat on a milk crate, bobbing his head to the song and watching as the first undead stumbled through Kek's obstacle course. Kek stood in the center, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot tapping the ground; he looked like an impatient cartoon character. Kek didn't bother unsheathing his weapons until the corpses stood three feet away.

At first they came as normal – one, two, three at a time or in little clusters. Then _Electric Cucumber_ played over the speakers, and by the time they reached _Psyche_ a few dozen were in sight. Kek stayed in the center for a while, content to kill the ones that attacked him, but as the bodies piled around him, he decided to utilize his macabre carnival to his advantage.

He lured a group of zombies up a ramp, his blades spinning with a speed that Ryo could only describe as god-blessed. Kek jumped down and balanced on a narrow plank, slicing through corpses on each side of him. The entire time he laughed, and laughed, and laughed, as thick globs of congealed blood clotted over his clothing and into his hair.

Ryo found himself humming along with the music as he watched Kek. It was beautiful, to watch Kek fight. The blonde maniac turned slaughter into a dance, an act of grace and movement. Only once did Ryo have to draw his bow and dispatch a zombie that clung to Kek's back. Otherwise, Ryo sat content watching Kek massacre the undead on his own.

Ryo turned watching Kek into a sort of drinking game. Every time a body part went flying from a corpse's body, Ryo ate a cherry. Most of the time, it would be a severed hand, but if a head went rolling, Ryo ate two cherries. At one point, Kek tied a corpse up in its own intestines and swung it around to knock all the nearby bodies to the ground. He then flung the corpse against the brick wall of the electronics store. _That_ kill warranted three cherries and a swig of water from Ryo's canteen.

Ryo felt foolish for having ever worried about Kek getting hurt – he was made for killing and as he danced his way up planks and across platforms, slaughtering with each step, he looked like a golden angel battling a legion of damned souls.

Ryo lost count at two-hundred and ninety-six, and that was well before sunset.

It didn't seem humanly possible, to kill that many without a single bite-wound, but Kek not only managed, but turned the event into an art form. The sky grew ash-dark, and Ryo's eyes dropped closed. The batteries died in the stereo, turning off the music, but by then few zombies remained moving. Kek had managed to clear every zombie within luring range of their speakers.

Ryo woke up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered half asleep. "I should have stayed awake. Ug, you smell awful." Ryo tucked his nose under his shirt.

Kek laughed. "I guess we need to go clothes shopping. I'm soaked in blood."

"It looks like jelly."

"C'mon. Streets should be safe tonight."

Ryo stood up, stretching his legs and back. "Well? Did you have fun?"

"I feel . . ." Kek looked up at the stars, and Ryo realized that he'd never seen so many when the world was _normal._ "I feel like I finally did what I came here to do." He looked at Ryo, grinning. "Thanks."

"I bet I can improve the speakers and lure even more to you next time."

Kek grinned. "And I bet I can design better booby traps. The next obstacle course needs a firewall."

"Burning doesn't really hurt them. I tried that. It just makes you have to fight burning zombies."

"I know! That's exactly what I want to do!"

Ryo laughed as he climbed down the rope ladder. It took them several minutes to pick through the rotted cadavers littering the parking lot. "We'll have to come back tomorrow and burn them all."

"We need to count so I know what my record is. I lost count at three-hundred and sixty-nine."

"I lost count before then."

"The moon makes your hair glow. I'm glad you wore it down today."

Ryo felt his cheeks warm at the unexpected compliment.

"Ug." Kek stopped a moment and pulled off his tank-top. "The blood's drying and it feels stiff." He didn't stop with his shirt. His shoes, socks, and pants all fell to the street.

"Kek, you can't just walk around naked."

Kek looked up at Ryo and he tried to scrape drying blood-clots and guts off of his arms. "Why not?"

"Because, you just don't."

"Why not? I mean, besides you, I think I've seen three living people the entire time I've been alive, and two of them were playing Duel Monsters and didn't give a fuck that I was fighting five zombies by myself. I doubt anyone would give a fuck if they saw me walking naked through the streets."

"Yeah, but . . ." Ryo pursed his lips. "Huh, I guess you're right. It's not like you should worry about being civil when civilization is in shambles." Ryo shrugged. "Do as you like."

"I need to find some water."

Ryo frowned. "That's going to be hard. We're in the business district. Everything has been more or less looted."

Kek pulled filth from his hair. An eyeball fell out of the spikes and landed on the sidewalk.

Ryo jumped back. "Ew! That did not just happen!"

Kek tossed his head back and laughed. "That was awesome!"

"That was disgusting!"

Kek tilted his head down and shook out his hair. "Wonder what else I can find."

"No. Nope. Hell no. We're going to find some water now. Maybe the pet store will have some bottled water in the fish section."

They only found dusty, plastic plants and half-cleared shelves in the fish section of the pet store. Next, they checked the pharmacy, but it'd been looted and half burned. By sheer accident, Ryo saw a rope dangling off of the side of the grocery store. It was only a single rope, but every ten centimeters or so the rope had a knot so it'd be easier to climb up.

Ryo tugged at the rope, making sure it was stable. "Let's climb it. Someone might be up there."

"Okay." Kek hoisted himself up the rope, unconcerned by the fact that he was naked.

A tent stood on the roof, torn and weather-stained. Ryo looked around; he saw chairs, a Go board, and a small grill for cooking, but everything was in disrepair. "Whoever lived here . . . never made it home one day. That happens." Ryo gestured to the corner of the roof to a barrel-like contraption. "That looks like a cistern. It might have water."

It did. First they filled their canteens to make sure they had water to drink. Next, Ryo took a pail's worth for himself and left the rest for Kek to clean himself. The encampment had soap and shampoo, and Ryo almost sang as he washed his hair properly for the first time in weeks.

After washing, they checked the camp for supplies. Ryo found needles and thread, and some more toiletries, but almost everything else was a waste. The batteries were corroded, the canned food rusted, and the tent wasn't worth mending. The only edible food they found was a package of nori and three packets of powdered miso soup. Kek lit a fire in the grill and boiled some water so they could split the soup. They ate the sheets of nori plain; it wasn't very good, but it was what they had.

"There's a clothing outlet at the end of this block," Ryo explained as he sipped soup from a ceramic mug. "It's probably a little too fashionable for what we need, but you can find something to wear until we find something better." Ryo yawned. "After we get you something to wear, we can come back here for the night and go back to our safe house in the morning."

Kek blew on his soup as he listened to Ryo speak. He nodded in agreement. "We can take a few days off. I'm exhausted."

"Gee, I wonder why?" Ryo giggled. "You only did the impossible today. I still don't believe you killed them all."

Kek winked. "You got one, too."

Ryo snorted, finishing his soup with a single gulp and standing to his feet. "Yes. I was so helpful. Come on, let's go shopping."

* * *

 *****AN: Oh yeah . . . the next chapter is when, well, all I have to say about the next chapter is sorry/not-sorry. I don't do anything harmful to a character. Just, kinda, sorta . . . I mean, gender binaries are stupid anyway! He wanted to wear it, so I wasn't going to tell him no.*****


	13. Chapter 12

*****AN: It's not a main head-canon, but as a side, dust it off now and then to think about, head-canon, I often think that Yami Marik would have such a hard time identifying with being _human_ that he'd take a look at the concept of _gender_ and just toss his hands int he air like "I don't even have time for this shit". And besides, the dress is a homage to Alice's costume in the Resident Evil movie (not exactly like it, but similar).*****

* * *

Ryo hadn't planned on getting any clothing for himself. Everything Ryo now wore was designed to protect him from more scars – boots, jeans, and long sleeved shirts that Ryo hand-quilted together in order to protect his arms from bites, scratches, and scraping against any number of surfaces. However, as Ryo stared at all the designer clothes, every item out of his price range when society still functioned, he couldn't help but to try on several outfits that caught his eye.

With only a flashlight for light, Ryo stared at himself in a dusty mirror. With his white skin and scarred body, Ryo looked like a corpse dressed for his own funeral. It didn't bother him though, the morbid image kind of appealed to him, actually.

Ryo had forgotten how much he loved shopping, and dressing-up, and sneaking off with Mai to get pedicures. Ryo hadn't exactly been in the closet, he never talked about his sexuality unless directly asked, but he never hid it from anyone. Still, it was nice that Mai figured it out on her own without him having to ever have _the conversation_ with her, and she often rescued Ryo from awkward situations involving the rest of their friends. Ryo remembered one specific time when he and Mai had window-shopped at this exact same store, wishing they could afford even the ties or bags, let alone the outfits.

Now he stood in black slacks and a matching vest that he'd ripped from the hanger without even looking at the price tag. Red pinstripes accented the pants and vest and Ryo paired it with a crimson, short-sleeved shirt. The dark color of the suit contrasted with Ryo's skin, and the red accents brought out the scarlet tones in his brown eyes. Ryo gave the mirror a small smile.

Ryo started looking for Kek. He searched the more casual section of the men's department, not imagining Kek as the type of guy who went for suits and ties. He couldn't find the signature yellow spike, nor could he hear Kek's manic, gleeful laughter anywhere in the store.

"Kek?" Ryo's voice wasn't much above speaking volume. Empty and dark, the store felt like a graveyard and it felt inappropriate to raise his voice. After searching for another minute, Ryo forced himself to call a little louder. "Kek?"

"I'm in the changing room!"

Ryo jumped at the sound. He swung his flashlight beam towards the sound of Kek's voice. The dressing room sat in the center of the store, and island dividing the men's and women's departments.

"You'll walk down the street naked, but you found a changing room?" Ryo smiled, trying to guess what outfit Kek would walk out wearing. He wouldn't find any black tank-tops on the racks at _that_ particular store. Ryo thought perhaps Kek would choose a black dress shirt, or something dark plum like the cape he once wore.

"Almost done . . . let me get this zipper . . ."

Ryo aimed his flashlight at the dressing room door. It opened and Kek stepped out. Ryo dropped his flashlight. He went down to his knees and scrambled on the floor to retrieve it, looking back up at Kek and blinking.

"I saw this and it looked like blood dripping down the hanger. Had to get the biggest size, though. How the hell to people fit into this crap? My hips aren't that wide, so I don't see why I'm an XL."

The scarlet fabric did look like blood dripping down Kek's body. Spaghetti straps hugged his cut, bronze shoulders. Because of Kek's masculine body lines, the dress didn't swoop in and back out like it would on a woman's curvier figure. Instead, it slanted down and then back out with a mild slope. It reminded Ryo of the hourglass on a black widow spider – straight lines instead of curves. The dress' skirt ended in jagged sections right above or below his knees, adding to the "dripping blood" image.

Ryo opened his mouth to say something and then stopped. His mouth hung open, and he continued to blink.

Kek gave Ryo a coy smile. He started pacing a bit between racks gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "Are you wondering if I'm not so new to my own body that I didn't realize I wandered to the wrong half of the store?" He stopped, glancing over his shoulder at Ryo. "I remember things from . . . whatever I was before, but I don't care. It looked like blood, and I wanted to wear it."

"N-no . . . you, you look good. I mean really good! It made me freak out a bit because you surprised me, but I like it."

Kek turned around to face Ryo again. His eyebrow quirked up inquisitively.

Ryo felt his cheeks burning and knew he looked a flushed, pink mess in the face. He hoped it was dark enough to hide some of his color. He started rambling. "I know when I met you I joked that I grabbed the naginata because I might as well fight like a woman, but the truth is I _hate_ when people say I look like a girl, or when they say I'm like a girl because I cook and have a lot of shoes. I don't look like a girl. I look like _me_ _,_ but then again, I do like cooking, and shopping, and sewing, and facials, and I know those are suppose to be _girly_ things, but I don't feel _girly_ when I do them – I feel like I'm having fun." Ryo shrugged, smiling. "So wear whatever makes you happy. I don't mind. Seriously, though, don't get blood on that dress – the price tag you dropped on the floor says 500,000 yen."

Kek walked up to Ryo and knelt on the floor beside him. "Look, we match."

Ryo looked at the red of his shirt and the red of Kek's dress. "Yeah, we do."

"Don't get blood on your clothes, either."

"Oh, I wasn't going to _actually wear this._ I was just killing time. I should change back into my real clothes."

Kek kept Ryo from standing up by kissing him. "Leave it on," he whispered between kisses.

"It's short sleeved. I don't want to get bit again."

"Ryo." Kek gave Ryo a look.

Ryo sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm less likely to get bit with us fighting together." Ryo sighed again. "Fine. I'll wear it tonight. Let's go back to camp. I can't wait to get you out of that dress."

Before they left, Ryo grabbed three black leather handbags.

"Why three?" Kek asked. "You don't have that much stuff to carry."

"Oh, they're for you, not me."

"Ryo, just because I'm in a dress . . ."

Ryo laughed. "No, no. I need the leather. I'm going to make you better holsters for your kukris."

"Ha! _That_ is the proper way to accessorize."

Without thinking, Ryo dropped the purses, grabbed Kek, and kissed him again. He wasn't sure why he did it. Something about the way Kek smiled made his mouth too irresistible not to taste. They stumbled, knocking a tie rack to the ground and landing on table covered in silk dress-shirts.

"Guess you really couldn't wait," Kek muttered between kisses.

Ryo pulled away, breathing hard. "We really should go back, though. It's not safe on the ground floor of a building."

Kek snorted. "I killed just about everything in this area."

"It's night. They wander, and—"

"Ryo, you're worrying too much again."

"Can one really worry _too_ much during the zombie apocalypse?"

"Can zombies open doors?"

"I don't _think_ so?"

"We broke in through a skylight because all the doors were locked and even _we_ couldn't get inside. How the hell are the zombies going to get in?"

"But what if one sees us and pounds on the glass?"

Kek pressed Ryo down on the table, unbuttoning Ryo's vest as he spoke. "Then let it enjoy the show before I chop off its head."

* * *

"That asshole better let us in!" Jonouchi shouted, kicking the iron gate to emphasise his point.

They'd reached the gate of the Kaiba Corp Mansion, but the undead (those not distracted by the distant music) still chased them. Mai and Jo shot at their front lines while Yugi searched for a potential way inside. Ten foot tall walls of thick, red brick surrounded the manse. The ivy growing down the sides of the walls wasn't sturdy enough to support the body weight of an adult. The only entry point was the iron gate and a thick chain and padlock prevented them from progressing.

"Can we cut through the chain with one of the axes?" Atem asked.

Yugi shook his head. "It's too thick. We'd only blunt the ax head."

"And knowing stupid Kaiba, it's made from some kinda space-aged super metal anyway."

"Yeah, something amazing, like steel," Mai teased between shots.

Movement caught the corner of Yugi's eye. He raised his gun, but then realized what he'd seen was the swivel of the security camera mounted on top of the brick wall. Yugi blinked. It'd been so long since he'd seen anything mechanical operate, that he had trouble believing that he'd seen the camera actually move. Yugi stepped out a few paces, watching the camera adjust to capture his image.

"Yugi?" What are you doing?" Atem frowned.

"Smile for the camera, Atem, and hope whoever's monitoring it has enough sense to tell Kaiba what's going on so he actually sees that it's us."

Atem looked up at the box monitoring them. "How does he have the power to run that?"

"I'm not sure, but leave it to Kaiba to find a way."

"He better hurry." Mai shot the last visible zombie. "We're clear, but that won't last long."

Yugi looked around. "We can get a ladder if we need to, but I'd rather not risk searching the buildings in this area. Let's wait a few minutes, and see if anybody shows up."

Yugi counted, inhaling odd numbers and exhaling even numbers to make sure he didn't speed up his counting. At the end of three minutes, he was about to give up, but then Jonouchi shouted.

"Hey, look! Someone's running towards us."

Atem squinted. "Looks like they don't want to be seen."

The figure wove through bushes and kept in the shade of trees. Yugi saw a large ring crowded with keys in the person's hand. The keys jangled as he ran from hedge to hedge. He noticed them watching and waived.

Yugi looked at the figure taking his time to weave closer to Yugi and his group. "I think it's Mokuba."

"That's Mokuba?" Atem leaned into the gaps between the bars of the gate.

Yugi smiled. "Ten years, Atem."

"Hell, he looks completely different from the last time we saw him, too." Jonouchi glanced at Mokuba and then back at the streets. He lifted his gun and three shots rang out. He reloaded as Mai picked off a fourth corpse.

"He grew his hair back out." Last time Yugi saw Mokuba, the boy had been clean-shaved, trimmed, in a business suit, and absolutely miserable as he interned for his brother. Mokuba later confessed to Yugi that he didn't mind the job, deadlines, or constant criticism by Seto – he just didn't like how the tie choked him.

Now he kept his long hair tied away from his face and wore the kind of goatee that made Yugi think of a cliché, cartoon devil. He still wore a suit, but the shirt was untucked and the top two buttons were undone – no tie in sight.

He made the last dash up to the gate. "I can't believe it's you. How'd you get this far? The hospital keeps anyone alive away from us."

"Luck," Jonouchi said.

"A miracle," Yugi said.

"It's all because I was here." Mai winked.

Mokuba dropped his keys when he noticed the Pharaoh. "It's you."

"He's here to help," Yugi explained.

"That's . . . that's great. I'm glad you're here – that's really great." Mokuba seemed to smile at some private thought as he retrieved his key ring and searched for a specific key.

He unlocked the padlock and worked on unraveling the thick chain from the gate. He scanned the area behind them. Mokuba frowned, eyes sad as they searched for something they couldn't find. "Please tell me you're not all that's left?"

"No." Yugi shook his head. "Honda, Shizuka, and Anzu are back at The Place."

Mokuba sighed, pulling the last of the chain away and opening the way for them. "Why did they stay behind? They should be here. It's safer here."

"Shizuka's going to have a baby in a few months. There's no way she could have walked this far and fought her way through."

Mokuba grinned. "Really? A baby?"

"Yup!" Jonouchi's grin was twice as big as Mokuba's. "I'm going to be an uncle."

After they all stepped through the gate, Yugi and Jonouchi helped Mokuba wrap the chain back around the fence.

"That's great!" Mokuba waved them towards the mansion. "C'mon. Try not to let the cameras see you – I want to surprise Seto – especially now that Yugi's back. I mean, the other Yugi, y'know what I mean."

"Atem," the Pharaoh said his name.

"Yeah, okay, Atem. We still call you Yugi, sorry."

"Then what do you call me?" Yugi laughed as they snuck through the maze of trees surrounding the mansion.

"Yugi."

"Doesn't that get confusing?" Jo asked.

Mokuba laughed. "Never. It's easy to tell the difference."

They snuck towards the back of the manse. Yugi saw a gardener pruning roses in a small corner of a garden, and another one pulling weeds not too far away from the first. "This place looks the same."

"Oh, the mansion was set up to be self-sufficient in case of an emergency back when Gozaburo ran KaibaCorp. I'm pretty sure he had World War III in mind more than a zombie attack, but you know." He sighed. "When they evacuated the hospital, a lot of people came here. We let as many as we could in before the attacks forced us to shut the gates. They had to agree to become employees of KaibaCorp to pay for their living expenses – you know how my brother is – but at least they're safe here. A lot of doctors made it. They tried to find a cure, but . . ."

"You can't isolate the cause of the original plague," Yugi said.

Mokuba nodded. "They searched for bacterial, viral infections, parasites, even fungus, but found nothing."

Yugi sighed. "That's because it's not a regular disease."

Mokuba glanced at Yugi, shoving his free hand in his pocket and jingling the keys in his other hand. "It's like before, right? That's why Atem's here?"

The rest of them nodded.

Mokuba sighed, as if he'd suspected as much for a long time. They reached a back entrance that served as a way in and out of the kitchen. Mokuba sat down on a stool next to a large, oak prep table. A basket of apricots sat on the table; he pushed it towards Yugi and the others. "Here. I know you're hungry."

"Thanks!" Jonouchi grabbed a apricot with each hand, juice rolling down his chin with his first bite.

Mokuba nodded, turning his attention to Yugi. Mokuba grinned. "Look . . . I don't know exactly how bad it is out there, but I know it's bad. I'd feel a lot better if the others were here."

Mai shook her head, tossing an apricot stone into a waste basket. "Yeah, sweetie, but it was _dumb luck_ that we even made it here. Something distracted the corpses away from us, otherwise we'd be shambling outside your gates with the rest."

Yugi shook his head. "Besides, Shizuka shouldn't walk that far. I mean, the walk wouldn't be that bad, but she'd have to fight, too."

Mokuba drummed his fingers against the solid, wooden table-top. "I've got a plan that would get them here safely. It's something I've been working on for over a year, actually. I've planned on sneaking out of here and looking for you guys for a long time now."

Yugi frowned. "Mokuba, it's dangerous out there. You shouldn't leave."

"God, you sound like my brother." Mokuba tugged at the tip of his goatee. "Like it? I grew it because it pisses Seto off. Being stuck in the same little plot of space is driving me crazy. Making my brother foaming-at-the-mouth pissed has become my enthusiastic hobby – and boy do I have a plan that's going to piss him off."

"Oh, I'm in." Jonouchi laughed, grabbing a third piece of fruit. "Anything to piss off Kaiba."

"Guys, we're here for a reason." Yugi gestured with his eyes towards Atem.

Mokuba waved off Yugi's concern. "He can go talk to Seto. That's actually the distraction I needed in order to get out of here without getting caught, and I'm sure they'll still be arguing by the time I get back with the others."

Yugi pursed his lips, thinking. He leaned forward, closer to Mokaba. "What's your plan?"


	14. Chapter 13

*****Disclaimer: Timeshipping? (Seto/Atem) Lemon, also mild Blueshipping (fuck yeah Blueshipping)*****

* * *

He never believed. Not even when he found himself in the midst of prophecy did Seto Kaiba believe in destiny . . . magic . . . gods. Fairy tales and hope never helped him as a child while trapped in an orphanage with his younger brother. Seto had saved them by himself with effort, with intelligence; no fairy godmother helped him onto his throne.

Then the dreams began.

They started after Yugi went to Egypt and returned less than he'd been. Everyone rambled some fable about Pharaohs and Ceremonial Duels, but Seto never gave their story much thought.

When he slept, he dreamed of a milk-pale goddess with crystal-blue eyes. He knew her name.

 _Kisara_.

Each dream, they walked through a field of golden wheat, holding hands. She made him talk about his day, work, home, Mokuba; she made him say everything, and she smiled as he spoke.

He dreamed now, but something was different. She didn't walk. She stood still, holding his hands.

"I'm here to say goodbye," she whispered. Her voice always reminded Seto of a small, silver bell. He'd bought such a bell in his waking hours to think of her more. He kept it hidden in his room with a Blue Eyes White Dragon card.

He shook his head. "You can't."

She squeezed his hands, smiling. "We'll see each other soon, but you don't need me anymore. You're not going to be alone any longer. Go, Seto. Live. Love again. Help them. The dead need to come home."

She held his face then, with both hands, and kissed him on the mouth. "Help them."

He stared at her, neither agreeing nor arguing with her plea.

His response only made her smile. "I love you, Seto."

He wanted to say it back, opened his mouth to exhale the words into her mouth, but a physical touch brought him back to the physical world. Seto jerked his head up, realizing he'd fallen asleep at his desk again. He turned, expecting Mokuba, but he blinked when he realized it wasn't. Not for a second did he mistake the man looking at him with violet eyes for Yugi, though Seto thought of him as Yugi. Seto wasn't surprised to see his old rival. He'd known. Even in the dream he'd known.

Seto snorted. "I suppose you expect me to help you end this mess?"

He shrugged, smug as Seto remembered him to be. "We can duel. If I win – you help me."

"I'll help," Seto spoke in a dry whisper, dreams lingering in his mind even as the taste of her kiss lingered on his tongue.

 _You're not going to be alone any longer._

At that moment, he hated her for her words. He didn't want a well-tailored suit; he wanted a tunic of flax-cloth. He didn't want to be in an office; he wanted wheat fields. He didn't want _company;_ he wanted her.

 _Love again._

He wanted love less than he wanted suits, offices, and company. It was inconvenient, the feeling, any feeling. He never complained about days filled with work and nights filled with wheat stalks and her smile. Her smile was enough. Her smile was enough. Her smile was more than enough to get him through his existence. Why would he subject himself to that kind of weakness with another person?

His rival laughed, as if he could hear Seto's musings. "Just like that? No challenge for a duel? You know I'm not Yugi, right?"

Seto's eyes narrowed a touch. "I'm not an idiot."

"My name's Atem." He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and the smug grin still decorating his face.

Even filthy, even covered in old, clotted blood in old clothes too big for his sleek frame, he looked majestic. His hip jutted out because of the way he always stood with a slight lean. The toasted almond color of his skin brought out the darker tones of violet in his eyes. No, he wasn't Yugi. A good natured expression always rested easy on Yugi's face. His eyes were a brighter purple. Yugi couldn't intimidate a balloon animal, but Seto remembered fighting this other half of Yugi. A shiver ran through Seto as he remembered their duel at Death-T. Fear didn't illicit the the reaction; it was the hunger for competition, for an equal, that made Seto's skin prickle.

"At least you're not calling yourself Pharaoh anymore."

And still that smug expression on his face lingered. "You may call me _your majesty_ if you'd like, Seto."

If Seto was susceptible to fits of passion, then he'd punch Yugi – Atem – in the jaw if only to see the smug look replaced by a moment of shock. Instead, Seto stood, scowling at his adversary. "You look pathetic. There's blood in your hair."

Atem blinked, as if he didn't quite understand Seto's language. "You do realize we had to fight our way to reach your manse? While you've been sitting on your ass in here, people are dying out there."

"I've dedicated a significant amount of time and resources trying to isolate the cause of the plague, and I've gained zero return on my investment. If you're upset about Domino City's high mortality rate, then perhaps you should speak with the gods that seem to favor you so much. They're the ones that waited two years to take any sort of action."

Atem's expression fell. Seto didn't smile, but he did feel a swell of contentment when he realized he'd hit a nerve. He thought it was a shame, Atem's face was rather handsome when the former Pharaoh looked sincere instead of cocky.

An obstinate flame smoldered in Atem's eyes. "Perhaps that's true, but I have faith—"

Seto cut Atem off with an upraised hand. "Save it. I'm unconcerned with your faith. I said I'd help."

 _Because Seto knew it'd make her happy._

Atem sighed, running his fingers through his soiled hair. "Seto . . ."

Seto raised an eyebrow.

Atem looked up at him, his face returned back to a sincere, attractive look. "Thanks, for helping. I'm not sure what we're going to do yet, but . . . I'm glad you're on our side."

Seto snorted, looking away. "There's a shower in the office. It's the door in the back, left corner. Leave your clothes out here. I'm going to burn them."

Atem chuckled. "If I walk around in only a towel, I'm pretty sure Yugi will start blushing."

"I'll provide new clothes." Seto thought a moment. "Where are the others?"

Atem shrugged, an innocent gesture that made Seto suspicious. "They were in the kitchen with Mokuba the last I saw them. Yugi thought it'd be a good idea for me to talk to you alone – without Jonouchi."

Seto acknowledged Atem's words with a small, disdainful grunt at the mention of Katsuya. His mind lost it's focus when Atem's shirt dropped to the floor. Atem's pants joined his shirt before Seto could snap back to himself and grumble at the clothes – eyes half-attempting to avoid the naked, brown body beside them. "What the hell are you doing?"

Atem chuckled. "You told me to leave my clothes out here."

"You're not obtuse. Put them beside the bathroom door and quit soiling my rug."

Atem crouched down, a grin on his face. He looked up at Seto. "No, I'm not obtuse." He stood back up and walked towards the bathroom, talking over his shoulder as he went. "Aren't you going to help me scrub my back? You were one of my subjects in Egypt, you know."

Seto crossed his arms over his chest, his expression a mask carved from granite. "Your priest, not your servant."

Atem dropped the clothes near the bathroom door, spinning around on his heels and winking at Seto. "So, you finally admit all that was true?"

"No," Seto said, although he knew it was. He'd spent too many nights walking with Kisara to continue to deny it to himself. "But if you're going to continue with your delusions, the least you can do is keep the details consistent."

"Oh come on, Seto." He gestured to his chest and abs. "Look at me. Is this a delusion? I'm not Yugi. This is me. This is my own body. How do you explain that? Do I need to drag Yugi in here so we can stand side by side for you to compare?"

Seto snorted, trying to suppress the rouge smile trying to turn the corners of his mouth. "Only if _he_ keeps his clothes on."

Atem laughed. "But I can stay naked?"

"If you want me to help, you should stop wasting time. You're the one worried about people dying."

Atem's face fell. "You're right." He disappeared through the bathroom door.

Seto had one of his own servants bring a change of clothes, leaving them on Seto's desk as they took the old ones away. Once the room was empty again, Seto picked up the outfit and examined it. He'd had them bring a butler's uniform to piss off _his majesty._ Seto figured if he could knock Mr. Pharaoh down a few pegs then he may become a tolerable person.

The sound of water stopped and a moment later the door opened. A burst of steam blinded Seto, and when the air cleared, Atem stood leaning against the door frame wearing only a towel around his waist and a smirk on his face.

Seto allowed his own smirk to mirror Atem's. "Your new clothes, Pharaoh."

Atem scowled at the uniform, smacking it to the ground and glaring at Seto.

He shrugged. "Then I suppose you're wearing the towel."

"Maybe I don't want that either." Atem dropped the towel to the marble floor.

Seto furrowed his eyebrows at the discarded terry cloth. "Is there a reason you keep taking your clothes off around me today?"

Atem crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not obtuse, either."

Seto shifted his gaze to Atem. "Weren't we supposed to go save the world?"

"We have some time."

Seto frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Instead of answering, Atem grabbed the back of Seto's head and kissed him. Seto stood, motionless except for his lips that yielded to the pressure of Atem's mouth. He stood still while deciding how the kiss made him feel, only to decide that he didn't _want_ to feel anything. They'd gone full circle from the moment Atem's touch dragged Seto away from Kisara and back to the waking world. He didn't want to experience feelings – they were inconvenient.

And yet . . . and yet his fingers dug into the tanned skin covering Atem's shoulders. Seto stood tall enough that Atem had to stand on his toes in order to kiss him, and something about that pleased Seto. Seto felt Atem's hands grab at his clothes, pulling off the coat and vest, tossing the garments on the floor. Seto's mind itched. He wanted to grab the clothes and hang them straight and neat on the back of his office chair, but he couldn't seem to let go of Atem's shoulders.

He hadn't realized how much he needed it – physical touch – until he'd felt fingers on his skin. Those fingers worked to undo the tie-knot at Seto's throat. He knew Atem would toss that on the ground as well, but he still couldn't let go of Atem's shoulders.

Kisara's smile was enough, but to be touched . . . it went beyond the concept of merely _enough._ They stumbled towards the desk, leaving a trail of tie, shirt, belt, pants, and shoes. Seto stopped walking backwards when the edge of his desk pressed into his ass.

Atem let go long enough to swipe his arm across the desk. Phone, stapler, papers, folders, everything but the computer flew to the ground in a storm of office supplies.

"That's my desk," Seto protested.

"Now it's a bed." Atem jumped on the teak surface, indifferent to the fact that his bare ass pressed against the cold wood.

"You're a selfish prick." Seto didn't really pay attention to his own words. He was too busy calculating what was more expensive – the desk or the rug. He decided the desk was easier to clean so it'd have to work. The chair would have been best, but they could break the chair and he didn't want to explain that to anyone.

"How am I selfish?"

"I need those papers."

"Then pick them up."

"It doesn't help if they're torn because you pushed them to the ground without thinking about how your actions affected others."

Atem shrugged. "I thought—"

"No you didn't," Seto interrupted him. "You _wanted_. You wanted something and then you acted without thinking because you're spoiled." Seto wasn't angry, or even perturbed. A crumbled report couldn't end a world already destroyed, but Seto still reprimanded Atem because his words were true, and Atem needed to hear them.

"You want to have this conversation now?" Atem blinked. "I thought we were too busy for talking."

A dry smile graced Seto's lips. "Maybe you're not as attractive as you think you are."

Atem snorted, leaning forward an inch and devouring Seto with his dark eyes. "I'm _exactly_ as attractive as I think I am."

Seto snorted. "Perhaps . . . that's still no excuse for wrinkling my clothes and trashing my desk."

He hated the way that Atem's confidence and poise somehow proved his argument, changing it into another battle where he won and Seto lost. Seto stepped back in order to gain some physical control of the situation. He stared at Atem. The former Pharaoh was Kisara's opposite, dark eyes, dark skin, stiff hair, vain, snarky, proud, and Seto was so neutral, so dead center, that both ends of the spectrum completed him in a different way – like a sword and shield completed a set though one protected and the other cut.

Atem smiled. Only this time, it was a nice expression, almost Yugi-like, but not as sickening sweet. "You still miss her."

Seto started, more from Atem's expression than his words.

"I met her. In Aaru." Atem shrugged. "Not that you believe in Paradise, but I did meet her there. She loved to talk about you . . . we both talked about you."

Seto swallowed.

"You still miss her," Atem repeated.

Seto's mouth opened against his will, spoke against his will. "I need her."

Atem's eyes gleamed brightly, too brightly. His mouth dropped. He looked rueful, wistful. "Maybe I should get dressed."

Atem moved to stand, but Seto grabbed his hair, climbing on top of the desk until he sat straddled over Atem's lap. Seto pressed his forehead just above Atem's forehead. He held his breath. Seto knew if he succumbed to breathing, then he'd succumb to feeling as well. It'd be better to die and avoid both, but he knew death held no escape, knew he wouldn't avoid his emotions, knew she'd be waiting in a field of wheat to chastise him, so he took in a shuddering breath, smelling his own shampoo in Atem's hair, and exhaled.

"She told me to live."

"The gods told me the same," Atem whispered. "Hard . . . isn't it?"

Seto's lip twitched. "Not as hard as trying to beat you at Duel Monsters."

Atem chuckled as if out of breath, a thin sound shifting from his mouth – humored, but weak. The air conditioner kicked on; Atem shivered. Seto tilted Atem's face up and kept his eyes open when he kissed his rival. Atem looked shocked, and Seto registered the amusement the reaction incited in himself, though he had no urge to laugh, or smile, or perform any other act that would express what he felt.

His mouth dropped down to Atem's neck, the skin so much like the skin of toasted almonds that Seto swore he tasted cyanide mixed with Atem's sweat. Seto stood long enough to remove his boxers, folding them in half and laying them on the arm of his office chair. Seto reached into a false drawer in his desk and removed a bottle of lube.

Atem laughed again, as light and soft as before. "You would at your desk. I already caught you sleeping here."

"Most nights," Seto said. He filled his hand with lube, then hesitated.

In all things business and in all things gaming Seto took swift, sure, decisive actions. But intimacy? He'd never so much as went on a date before that wasn't business related. Nor did Seto watch porn, plentiful as it had been on the internet before zombies ate the actors. Pornographic cinema was too animal, too human, for Seto to appreciate it, and while he'd read his fair share of erotica, he didn't trust a damn word of it to be accurate.

Doing the best he could, Seto tilted his hand so that the excess lube dripped over Atem's asshole. Atem shivered again, prickled skin wrapped over tense muscles. His legs were all brown skin and length. Seto spread the lube further, feeling soft, delicate, and warm, warm, warm skin. Atem pressed himself into Seto's touch and the act encouraged Seto to slip a finger inside Atem's body.

He went slow, cataloging every touch and sensation into his brain like one might file index cards. Seto wanted to record the experience, so he could play it back in his mind and live it again. Smell of jojoba shampoo, feel of cold teak wood desk and Atem's warm body, sound of the air conditioner whirring, and a sweet taste bathing Seto's tongue each time he kissed Atem.

The desk wasn't long enough. Atem's tri-colored spikes sprayed out against the side of the computer monitor; the edge of the desk cut into Seto's knees as he struggled to balance. With an irritated growl, Seto pulled Atem up and sat him in Seto's lap. Face to face, they looked at each other.

"Are you nervous?" Atem asked.

"Why? Are you?"

"I . . . never married in Egypt, and then my soul was trapped in the Puzzle . . ."

Seto pressed two fingers over Atem's lips to silence him. "I'm as clueless as you are."

"You work too much," Atem snapped, moving his lips away from Seto's fingers. "You're far too old to be a virgin."

"Excuse me, Mr. 3,000 plus year old Pharaoh of Virgins."

"I didn't have a body during most of that."

They stared at each other for a moment. Atem broke the silence. "I always thought you were cute when you glared."

Seto closed his eyes. "Atem."

Atem shifted higher, positioning himself so that when he settled back into Seto's lap, he slid down Seto's erection. They both gasped, and then looked at each other. A natural, pleasant silence stretched between them. Their lips stayed close to one another but not touching.

Atem blinked. "I, um, I'm going to move, now. If that's okay?"

Seto nodded. He couldn't talk. Atem's hair fanned out in a spray of color around his head, his tongue darted out and licked his bottom lip, and his eyes never left Seto as he started sliding up and down. Heat welled in Seto's face and in his limbs. The more Atem moved, the more the heat built in Seto's body. The only sounds in the room were the shuffles of their bodies and the murmuring of the air conditioner.

Atem draped his arms across Seto's shoulders for balance. Atem's movements gained confidence as he continued to see-saw his hips. Seto fumbled between their bodies until he felt Atem's cock.

"Gmph," Atem grunted at Seto's touch.

Seto kept his touch light and quick, watching Atem's expression unravel as he started bouncing. The desk protested under their weight, but Atem didn't seem to care as he leaned closer, starting to groan.

"S-Seto. Seto," Atem cooed, his voice needy and gentle. Then he shouted. "Kaiba!"

Hearing his last name drew out a bit of the executive in Seto. He flicked his wrist faster, squeezing Atem's shaft. "Cum," he ordered in a harsh, seductive tone.

A whimper escaped Atem's mouth, his cheeks uncharacteristically flushed. Seto felt Atem's entire body tense with oncoming orgasm.

"Cum," he growled a second time.

Atem moaned and cooed, pressing into Seto's chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back.

Seto felt himself streaming into Atem's body, his heart as quick and wild as Atem's hips. As he climaxed, he managed a final whisper, "cum."

And Atem was, even as Seto whispered it. Seto felt the heat of Atem's seed splashing against his wrists. They both relaxed, once again staring face to face. After a moment Atem stood up. "It's a good thing your mansion has electricity and water. I need another shower."

After Atem vanished again, Seto went to re-organizing his desk and gathering his clothes. When Atem walked back into the office, he wore the black slacks and white shirt, untucked and with the sleeves rolled up, from his butler's uniform. The black coat hung from his shoulders like a cape in the same way he used to wear Yugi's school uniform jacket. He grinned at Seto . . . perhaps not _quite_ as annoying looking as before. "You know, this actually looks good on me."

Seto scowled because it, in fact, looked incredible on him.

* * *

 *****Next chapters stuff actually happens.*****


	15. Chapter 14

A monitor in the dashboard allowed Mokuba to call Seto. Cell phones no longer worked, but they had limited communications through Kaiba Corp's network. Seto's face appeared at the screen. His hair looked disheveled and his cheeks slightly colored. Mokuba wondered just how badly Atem won the game if Seto got angry enough to muss up his hair.

"Hey, big bro." He smiled at the screen. "You'll never guess where I am right now!"

Mokuba noticed Seto's eyes darting back and forth, examining anything in frame around Mokuba that could give away Mokuba's location.

Before Seto could ruin the surprise, Mokuba shouted, "That's right! I stole your Porsche! Yugi and I are going on a little joyride back to his place to pick up the others. We'll be back in no time."

Even on the screen, Mokuba could tell that all the color drained from his brother's face. "Mokuba, that car is dangerous – the streets are dangerous. Get your ass back here right now."

"What's that, Seto?" Mokuba shouted at the screen. "Sorry, can't hear you over the 400 plus horsepower! I'll have to – oh shit!" Their first zombie hit the hood and spun over the car.

Yugi sat with his seat belt fastened and his eyes squeezed shut. "Mokuba!"

"Yeah, sorry, sorry. Uh . . . sorry, bro. Paint job is fucked."

"When did you even learn to drive stick?"

"Like I'd tell you." Mokuba had to laugh. Only his brother could sound so calm as Mokuba wove through wrecks and corpses in a car that cost more money than working people saw in several years worth of wages.

"When you get back, I swear—"

"Bla, bla, bla. Yeah, yeah. My ass is toasted. Totally worth it. I want Shizuka to have her baby where it's safe. Think after rescuing them she'll let the baby call me uncle Mokuba?"

Seto tried to retort, but Mokuba didn't catch the words. Domino blurred past them fast enough to turn his stomach, but he didn't want to slow down enough to allow any of the walking corpses to catch up to them. He jerked the car to the right and down a smaller road in order to avoid a turned over truck long rusted and gutted for parts. He jerked left again. The car handled as if she were a part of Mokuba's body.

In the seat beside him, Yugi held his breath, digging his fingers into the leather seats hard enough to turn his knuckles rice-white. "C'mon Yug! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"You can't drive like this when Shizuka's in the car," Yugi hissed, cracking one eye open enough to look at Mokuba. "We want to get her somewhere safe to have her baby – not traumatize her into labor."

Mokuba grunted in response, but the road demanded his attention. On the screen he heard Seto and Atem arguing, but he couldn't focus on them as he dodged a pile of burned bodies. "What do you think happened?" He glanced at Yugi for a second before returning his eyes to the road.

"Not sure. Mai said someone's been killing zombies and burning their bodies. Maybe that was their work?"

"Good, less stiffs to get in my way." He shifted to the next gear and allowed the Porsche to purr down the road. "We close?"

"Straight for two more blocks and then right – Mokuba, slow down!"

Mokuba laughed again. Sometimes Seto sent Mokuba on business meetings in his place when schedule conflicts arose. More than once, Mokuba turned such meetings into track races and lunches with more sake than sushi. When they looked at Mokuba, they saw a young, naive, and brash youth with none of his brother's polish or discipline. It made them loose-tongued with their ambitions and sloppy with their negotiations, and they never knew – until it was over and the paperwork signed – just how similar the two brothers were. He wasn't afraid of crashing the car. He knew her, could work her with the same ease that he could single-handedly unhook a bra in a dark room.

He lowered the gears to break, swinging the black Porsche in a wide circle and leaving a trail of heated rubber on the street. "I'll keep the stiffs away from the car while you get everyone, okay?"

Yugi nodded, looking queasy. He jumped out of the car. Mokuba did as well, pulling two guns from holsters hidden under his suit coat – another business necessity. His eyes scanned the streets. Whenever a gray or white corpse stumbled into view, a single shot to the head brought it down. Mokuba counted – seconds piled into minutes and minutes stacked one on top of another.

He started to worry. He looked up to the window Yugi had climbed in through a rope ladder. He saw a dark square through the windowpane and nothing else. Inside the car, Seto bitched and threatened Mokuba, but Mokuba resisted the urge to argue with his sibling; instead, he watched the streets and brought down zombies whenever they appeared.

By his second round of ammunition, Mokuba was considering climbing the ladder himself, but then he heard Yugi's voice shout down from the top of the building. Four bodies climbed down the rope ladder. Shizuka carried a round, full belly. The others carried rucksacks and small cages each filled with two chickens.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Mokuba's mouth dropped when he saw the birds. He didn't know if he should laugh at the absurdity, or cringe at the thought of feathers sticking to the car's leather interior. "Seto is going to mount my head above his desk."

"I'm really sorry." Yugi said as he neared the ground. "We tried to convince her to leave them, but she wouldn't stop crying."

"She's pregnant – deal with it," Anzu snapped before Mokuba could either consent or argue.

"If we left them, they'd die." Shizuka stepped onto the ground with the help of Honda. She flinched each time Mokuba's gun went off, even with the silencer on, but she didn't complain.

Mokuba decided to smirk. The die was cast, so there was no use stressing about it. "Your carriage, m'lady." He gestured to the car.

Shizuka looked shy as she settled inside the back and Honda began packing cages around her. Yugi and Anzu went to the front. Mokuba opened his mouth to ask how they'd all fit, but before he did, Anzu slipped into Yugi's lap and fastened their seat belt.

He jumped into his own seat and shifted the car out of park. He didn't peel out into the streets. Five people's weight made a difference when handling – not to mention the chickens.

"Are those chickens? You let them turn my car into a barn!"

"I'm impressed. That's the most expressive I've ever heard your voice, big bro."

"What's wrong with you people?" Seto continued. "Just because society's collapsed doesn't mean you have to act like savages."

Shizuka burst into a volley of tears, leaning into Honda's shoulder to hide her face. He gave the others an apologetic look.

"Good going, Seto." Anzu shot an angry, protective stare at the monitor. "You giant dick. No one cares about your stupid car." With that she flicked the dial that turned off the monitor and the screen went black.

* * *

Atem didn't like the suspicious bordering on betrayed glare in Seto's eyes. When Anzu turned off the monitor, Seto turned and stared at Atem.

"What? Was your plan to seduce me while they snuck off?"

"With a card game," Atem said.

Seto snorted, walked across the office to the opposite end, and slammed the door to his bathroom. Atem sighed, wandering over to Seto's desk. He sat in Seto's office chair. The leather hugged his body like a mother's arms and Atem couldn't help but close his eyes and relax. After a moment, he noticed the straightened stack of papers on the desk.

Atem leaned forward, wondering what was so important in the paperwork to have Seto bitch at Atem for knocking them to the ground. He expected old stock reports, or an inventory list of food stores, what Atem actually saw made his mouth drop.

The papers were energy reports showing increased electricity from the 40% the mansion originally had to the current 85%. With a little digging Atem realized the increase was due to advanced solar energy cells that both Seto and Mokuba engineered. Instead of huge, bulky solar panels that needed direct sunlight, the two brothers created smaller, more efficient panels the size of a bathroom tile. Atem also found plans for small, household generators that could be mass produced for public use.

"You bastard," Atem whispered, smiling without realizing it. "You care about humanity more than you let on."

"The end of the world is bad for business."

Atem jerked up at Seto's voice. "I'm sorry," he said. "I never thought to find out what was in these reports before I knocked them on the ground."

"I know," Seto said. "Perhaps next time you will."

Atem licked his lips and raised an eyebrow. "Next time you take me on your desk?"

Seto turned without answering, but Atem swore he saw the hint of a grin fighting the corner of Seto's mouth.

* * *

They ate a dish of peppers and lentils and dark, wild meat. Bakura licked the fire off of his lips from the peppers and took another bite.

"Is this dog?" Marik whispered. "Bakura, do you think this is dog?"

"It looks like squirrel," Bakura said.

"How do you know the difference?"

"Just eat it, Marik. It's delicious."

They sat on stools at a hand-built food booth in Market Town. Bakura recognized the owner as a chef who ran Ryo's favorite ramen shop when Bakura inhabited Ryo's body. During the construction of Bakura's final RPG, they'd often take dinner breaks at the ramen stand. Ryo would sit and eat while Bakura told him details about Egypt Ryo would need in order to build his diorama.

Bakura smiled at his plate at the memory. It was one of the few times he'd gotten along with his old host. Bakura wanted to tell the chef that he made the best ramen in Japan. He wanted to tell the man that he made even better stir-fry, regardless if the meat was squirrel or dog, but he didn't speak. Bakura knew the old man wouldn't recognize him and didn't want to answer questions.

Instead, he asked one of his own. "Where are Rishid and Ishizu this time?"

Marik shrugged, making a valiant effort to eat around the pieces of meat on his plate. "I don't know. Gathering information, I guess. We're going to meet at the hotel tonight at dark."

Bakura chuckled. "You ever think that maybe they sneak off so much so they can—"

"I don't want to _think_ about that, Bakura. They're my siblings . . . well, I guess they're more like my parents, in a way. I still don't want to picture – whatever you were going to say."

Bakura sipped dandelion tea from a chipped, ceramic tea cup. Red and black, it matched the décor of the food stand. Bakura admired how, even as buildings crumbled around them, people found time to decorate their homes and shops, defying a world that wanted them to have nothing. "Basically, you're saying you agree with me."

"Well, at least it gives us plenty of time to be alone, right?"

"No complaints there." Bakura used his chopsticks to steal a chunk of meat out of Marik's bowl.

Marik dumped all the loose pieces into Bakura's dish and Bakura relished each fiery bite. "I like this town," Bakura muttered between mouthfuls.

"Really? Yeah, I guess it's kinda cool here. Looks a little hodgepodge, but at least it's lively."

Lively was a good word. Voices hummed from one end of the roof to the other. Across each bridge were more roofs and more voices. The scent of garlic and peppers clung to the air, and everywhere Bakura looked, he saw color. Splashes of old paint, silk banners, hand-painted signs advertising each shop. Children screamed in the street as they raced, and musicians played somewhere behind them, filling the air with music as well as the chatter of one hundred people. The music made Bakura miss dancing with his clan.

"This place . . . reminds me of home. Before it burned." Bakura felt the smile on his face and decided to let it stay. There was no need to hide his expression, not from Marik.

Marik settled his hand on Bakura's thigh. "You'll have to tell me about it tonight. You've never really talked about Kul Elna."

Bakura glanced at Marik, giving him a slight nod. "Yeah, okay."

A man in a patched t-shirt walked up to them. He flashed a deck of cards, the typical way to challenge someone to a duel. Marik smirked and showed his own cards. Bakura went back to his lunch, rolling his eyes. Every time he had five minutes alone with Marik, some asshole wanted to duel.

"You won't be bored?" Marik asked as he stood up.

Bakura shook his head. "I want to case the town. I'll see you at the hotel at dark."

Marik touched Bakura's shoulder for an instant before walking away. Bakura finished his food and sipped another cup of tea, trying to decide if he wanted to order a second bowl or not. A large swarm of children rushed by, flying a kite through the walkways that served as streets. One of the kids, a scrawny thing with a floppy cap, bumped into Bakura as the others ran by.

"Sorry!" the kid shouted without slowing.

Her technique had been perfect. They way she blended in with the other children. The way she used the kite as a distraction. The way she'd pressed Bakura's bracelet against his skin as she'd bumped into him in order to give his body a physical memory of the item before she lifted it. Even the way she apologized to further the distraction. Had he not been _King of Thieves_ during his life in Egypt, Bakura wouldn't have missed the gold bracelet until it was too late.

He jumped to his feet and ran after the girl in the cap. He didn't shout _stop thief._ He fucking hated when they did that – did any thief in history ever stop because someone shouted for them to? No. So he didn't shout; he only raced to catch up to her.

She knew the city well, both streets and alleys. Bakura feared he'd lose her at each turn, but he kept to her heels as she dragged him through the city. Anything else, and Bakura would have let her keep her damn prize – she'd done such a good job stealing it that she really deserved it – but it was Marik's golden bracelet that she'd stolen, and that was the one item Bakura _wouldn't_ part with.

She slipped into a crawl space between buildings, an area too small for an adult, but Bakura knew it'd end behind the buildings. He jumped onto the roof of the low, shed-like building, and ran to the other side, leaping down and grabbing the girl in his arms. They were at the edge of an apartment building with no bridges near by. The ledge they stood on spanned no more than 18 centimeters on each side, but Bakura retained his dexterity and balance from his old life and didn't fear falling.

"Let go, pervert!" she shrieked.

Bakura clamped his hand over her mouth to shut her up. "Give it back, you little brat."

She struggled, but Bakura held her tight. He let her exhaust herself before removing his hand. She screamed; he shoved his hand back over her mouth.

"No more of that," Bakura growled in her ear. "You scream again and I'm cutting your fucking tongue out. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"I'm going to remove my hand. We're going to talk. I promise not to hurt you if you cooperate."

She nodded again.

He removed his hand once more, ready to clamp it back over her mouth.

"Let go of me you goddamned, perverted bastard," she snarled.

"Quit playing scared little girl, give me back my damn bracelet, and then we can both go on with our lives."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She tried struggling again, but Bakura simply held her.

"Yes you do. You're a good thief, but I was a better one. Now, give it back."

"Fuck off and let me go!" She bit his arm.

Bakura grunted from the pain, but didn't let go. The girl tried to bite him again, and he grabbed the nape of her shirt to keep his arm out of biting range while preventing the fool from tumbling off the building's ledge. In her struggle, the cap slipped off her head and cartwheeled to the cement below.

"Mother fucker! That was my favorite hat!" she swore as she watched it hit the street several stories below them.

Bakura blinked at the snowy, cropped locks of hair scattering in the wind. "You have white hair."

"Make fun of me and I'll kick you in the balls," she threatened, her face all rage and defense.

Bakura still held the collar of her shirt, but used his other hand to tug at his own hair. "Why would I make fun of you, stupid? My hair's white, too."

She stopped fighting and looked up, as if seeing Bakura for the first time. She narrowed her almond-shaped, golden-green eyes at him. "Who are you?"

Bakura laughed. "I'm an ancient Egyptian tomb-robber who once helped a dark god try and destroy the world. I died, but won my life back from the gods in order to reunite with my lover – and you, you little brat, stole the bracelet he gave me – so give it back before I toss you off of this fucking building, and that's not a threat."

The color drained from the girls cheeks as she stared at Bakura. "Oooookaaaay. You're obviously bat-shit crazy. Tell you what . . . let me go, and I'll find a nice, yummy can of dog food that you can eat all by yourself. You'd like that, right? Yummy, yummy dog food."

Bakura bit back his own sarcastic reply as he stayed true to his word and threw them both off of the roof. The girl shrieked, but Bakura only grinned, summoning Diabound to catch them and fly them away from the rest of the city where someone might see his _ka_. Once they were far away from people, Bakura let the girl go and watched her reaction.

She sat in Diabound's palm, peering over the edge and searching for an escape route she couldn't find. "W-what the hell is this? Is this some kind of monster?"

"It's my ka," Bakura explained as he sat cross-legged. "Part of my soul. Everyone has a ka, but the art of summoning them was lost thousands of years ago."

She shook her head. "No, no. This isn't happening. You drugged me somehow. Now I'm hallucinating, and when I wake up I'm going to be in a fucking cage and on my way to the black market."

"Holy shit, kid. You're more morbid than Ryo."

Giving up, she sat down in front of Bakura, giving him a distressed look. "Who's Ryo? Your boyfriend?"

"What? No, Marik's – why the hell am I having this conversation with an nine-year-old?"

"I'm eleven, asshole."

"You're scrawny for eleven."

"Fuck you."

"Look you little shit, I'm trying to be nice here, so let's make a deal. Give me my damn bracelet back, and I'll teach you how to summon your _ka_."

She looked at him, suspicious. He wondered how long she'd been on her own – longer than two years, Bakura guessed. The patches on her blue-jeans were well done, but the stitches looked sloppy – the work of an impatient child and not a mother. Her short-cropped hair looked self-cut, perhaps with a knife or a dull pair of scissors, and a little cross-shaped scar on her chin looked old, worn.

She reminded Bakura so much of himself at her age that it hurt to think about it. Angry, scrawny, smart as fuck, and too independent for the world . . . Bakura wondered how Marik felt about pets.

"You . . . really? I really have something like this, too? You're not just talking shit?"

"Everyone does, but yours will be more powerful than anyone else's."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why's that?"

Bakura reached forward and tugged at a lock of white hair sticking out of her head. "People with white hair have souls as powerful as gods."

"Bullshit."

Bakura shrugged. "Fine. Never mind. Easier for me if I don't have to waste all my fucking free time training some stupid, paranoid brat."

"Oh here." She reached into her shirt and pulled out Marik's bracelet, shoving the golden circle into Bakura's hands. "Show me, but don't expect me to call you something stupid like sensei."

Bakura slipped the bracelet back onto his wrist, happier to have it on him than he'd ever been with the Ring. "You can call me Bakura."

"Whatever." The girl crossed her arms over her chest. "My name's Miyu."


	16. Chapter 15

*****Disclaimer: Citronshipping fluff and a Deathshipping Lemon*****

* * *

They rented one of the common rooms. Hammocks lined the walls, mostly empty. A few tables scattered around the room, all of them full. One or two people slept. Marik noticed that while one woman read an old paperback, everyone else in the room studied their decks, optimizing their cards for their next game. Marik paced the center of the room. They were supposed to meet in the inn at dark. The sun went down two hours ago, but neither Marik, Rishid, nor Ishizu had seen Bakura.

He told himself he wasn't worried. Out of all the people who'd ever lived, Bakura could take care of himself. However, with each minute that ticked by, Marik felt himself pacing faster, breathing more shallow, and growing more angry at his selfish thief.

When Bakura finally sauntered into the common room, Marik sprinted to him and, without thinking, slapped Bakura's face.

Bakura winced and brought a hand up to his reddening cheek. "What the hell was that for?"

"Where the hell have you been?" Marik shouted.

"Right outside the city training Diabound – what the fuck, Marik?"

"We were supposed to meet here at _dark_ , not two and a half hours _after dark._ "

"It's hard to keep track of time when you're meditating. Fucking gods, Marik, I didn't know you'd freak out about it."

An exasperated sound broke free from Marik's throat. He lunged at Bakura again, only this time he placed one hand over Bakura's hand – still holding the slap mark – and the other hand behind Bakura's head. Marik pulled their mouths together and kissed Bakura as if he'd, yet again, returned from the dead.

Bakura's reflex response was to stiffen against Marik's mouth, perhaps expecting another slap. Then he melted into Marik's kisses, returning them with the same urgency as Marik gave them. Finally he pulled away just enough to speak against Marik's still perusing lips. "Marik – Marik, everyone is staring at us."

"I was afraid you wouldn't come back." Marik pressed his forehead into Bakura's neck. He felt Bakura's arms wrap around him. Marik blinked, his eyelashes wet. "You were late, and I thought you were gone again."

Bakura didn't respond, but kept his arms around Marik. The panic Marik felt moments ago faded as he stood in Bakura's embrace, and he realized he'd overreacted. Marik stood up straight, looking at Bakura who stood there with his mouth gaped open and eyes blinking. Marik clenched his jaw. "Okay, I'm an idiot. You don't even have to say it, but shit, Bakura, say something."

"I . . ." Bakura tried, but the words tangled up in his mouth. "I've never had anyone care before, if I came home late, not since before my village burned. Even when I stayed out all night in Ryo's body, we'd always go home to an empty apartment."

"Well." Marik balled his hands into fists. "Now people care, so be back on time."

Bakura grinned. "Shit, next you'll want to tie a bell around my neck."

"Don't joke about it, or I'll do it to piss you off." Marik gave Bakura a single kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Bakura smirked and lifted Marik bridal style into his arms.

"What are you doing?" Marik grabbed Bakura's shoulders out of reflex.

"Putting you to bed. You're cranky." Bakura laughed as he carried Marik to the cot closest to Ishizu and Rishid.

Both Ishizu and Rishid sat at a small table – there were three such tables in the room, two of them occupied with duels and the third with Rishid's map. Ishizu rubbed her forehead, trying to ignore her brother; Rishid laughed into his cupped hand. Marik glanced around the room as Bakura set him down in front of a ladder. He expected at least one or two complaints about their antics, but everyone had gone back to their cards.

Yet, a muffled sound of someone weeping into their pillow echoed from the other side of the room. Marik noticed the woman who had been reading now lay with her face buried into her pillow and her book crumpled on the floor. Marik knew, too well, the sound she made, a very specific kind of grief. It was loss, heart-shattering loss. That was the sound she tried to hide into her pillow. Marik had cried the same way when he first realized Bakura was truly gone. Guilt clamped Marik's throat tight. He supposed, recently, that she too had a lover that didn't come back after dark . . . only he never came back.

But there was nothing to do but dig his fingers into Bakura's shoulders. Bakura shoved Marik towards the ladder that lead to Marik's cot. Marik shook his head, looking at Bakura. "No, I want to stay awake with you for a few minutes."

Bakura pushed Marik towards the ladder again. "Who said I was going anywhere? Climb up."

Marik didn't really understand, distracted by the soft whisper of tears, so he did as Bakura said. As soon as he settled into his hammock – they were designed for single person use – Bakura jumped half on top of Marik, shifting and kicking out until they both lay squashed together. He managed to pull a light blanket over their bodies before settling down. "Comfortable?"

"I'm sorry I slapped you," Marik spoke, his voice dry. He used Bakura's chest as a pillow.

"I'm . . . sorry I was late?" Bakura apologized as if he wasn't sure he should or not.

"What made you decide to train Diabound anyway?"

"You're . . . not going to believe me."

Marik smirked. "You were trying to rescue a kitten out of a tree."

"Yes."

Marik snorted.

Bakura shrugged. "I got robbed."

Marik snorted again. "That's less believable than you rescuing a kitten."

"By a twelve-year-old girl. I chased her through the town, and when I caught up to her, I realized she had white hair like mine."

Marik looked up. His position skewed his view of Bakura. "Are . . . you being serious?"

He glanced down at Marik. "So I decided to train her."

"Because she's a thief like you?"

"Because she's angry at the entire world, too smart for her own good, and in possession of a god-level _ka_. If she doesn't learn how to control that she'll go insane. I . . . guess I didn't want another me in the world."

Marik smiled. "You big fucking softy. Where is she now?"

"She has a spot where she sleeps at the edge of town."

Marik pushed himself up on one arm. "You just left her alone? Bakura, why didn't you bring her with you?"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Marik, she's eleven. At that age I was the King of Thieves, and you were the Leader of the Ghouls. She can take care of herself. I'm training her – not adopting her."

Marik snuggled against Bakura once again. "Right. I give it two weeks."

"Until I get fed up with her bullshit and feed her to the dead?"

"Until she's as good as family."

"Whatever. Go to sleep, asshole."

"It's too early."

"Well, I have to wake up early," Bakura said, shutting his eyes. "So I'm going to sleep."

Marik nudged him with a shoulder. "You said you'd tell me about Kul Elna."

Bakura opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling centimeters from their faces. "It was the same size as Market Town, actually, and just as poor. But I never _felt_ poor as a kid. We had games, and music, and wrestling, and stories, and enough bread and beer to get by. True, the men of the village stole from tombs in order to afford the wheat, but had the Pharaoh paid the men their wages it would have never come to that."

"Atem?" Marik asked.

"His father."

"Why did he stop paying the Tomb-builders?"

"Kemet was on the verge of war. They used the cattle and grains meant for other laborers to feed an ever growing number of soldiers for their army."

"What else did you like about your childhood?" Marik asked, both to distract Bakura from talk of the Pharaoh, and because Marik wanted to hear about a childhood that wasn't spent underground.

"Swimming in the river. I was in the water more than on dry land if I could help it. Except during the monsoons when the current was too swift."

Marik felt his eyes flutter shut. The room was warm, and he sweated from being pressed against Bakura. He flipped around, so that his back pressed into Bakura's body. He enjoyed the body heat against his scars. "What else?"

Bakura kept talking. He told Marik about the men who'd vanish at night to rob tombs, the women who milled wheat, the children running around the village, and even the cats that lived wild throughout the village and chased rats. Marik chuckled, even as he dozed. He'd seen such cats running around Market Town as well. He said as much to Bakura, but wasn't awake enough to hear Bakura's reply. The last thing Marik remembered was Bakura shifting so he could press himself into Marik's back, giving Marik a final kiss goodnight on the nape of his neck before they went to sleep.

* * *

"You're it!" Ryo dashed down the dark hallway, his flashlight skipping across the floor tiles.

Kek chased him. He wore a white, cotton, sleeveless dress - his canvas. They'd cleared out the hospital during their game of tag one floor at a time. They were on the top floor and the previously unadorned white cloth now boasted an array of dull red splatters, smears, and swirls from Kek's kills. Ryo said it looked like roses. Kek thought it looked like a rust-colored phoenix pulling the sun out of a sea of blood.

They used their original obstacle course two more times, but each time provided fewer corpses for Kek to harvest. Even at night, it was getting hard to find a zombie lurking in the streets, so Ryo suggested the hospital. It was a brilliant idea, and Kek's arms felt sore from swinging his kukris all day and evening long.

Ryo pulled out his bow, as the hallways were too narrow for his naginata, and loosed an arrow at a corpse. The shadowy cadaver fell to the floor and Ryo snatched the arrow from its eye socket before he took a right turn and continued to run. He held three arrows in his draw hand to avoid wasting time pulling them from the quiver hanging off his belt.

Kek turned the corner and saw Ryo standing still, panting.

"Uhh . . . I think I'll let you take this batch," Ryo said when Kek caught up with him.

Kek tagged Ryo's shoulder before looking down the hall at the dozen nurses shambling towards them. "You're still it."

"Naturally." Ryo stepped back to give Kek room, aiming his flashlight at the nurses so Kek could see them.

Their long black hair looked like night descending over their shoulders and down their arms. They all had bite marks and chunks of flesh missing from their faces and limbs. Easy kills.

Kek grinned as he plunged into the center of the flock. He waited until he felt their long, brittle nails graze across his bronzed arms before he even pulled the kukris from his belt-straps. One nurse with a broken jaw went for his throat, though she couldn't bite with her jaw unhinged. Kek pressed his blade into her mouth while he used his other hand to knock three other nurses back. Kukris, like machetes, were weapons used for hacking, not piercing, so he had to strike the first nurse's head from above since the blow to her mouth didn't penetrate the skull.

The dead women pressed each other to get to Kek. He used their disorganization to his advantage, killing a few and then pushing their twice dead bodies into the remaining zombies, knocking them to the floor. It gave him time to kill four more standing corpses before dispatching the ones pinned on the floor.

Kek giggled as he cleaned his weapons against their clothes. Now the skirt of his dress resembled neither roses nor a phoenix – it looked like blood – old, red-violet, and foul, not the living, coppery fragrance of fresh blood. This blood was as dead as the victims, and Kek realized he wanted a shower.

Ryo ran up to him and kissed him. The pale, scarred male no longer fretted for Kek's safety, but Kek knew Ryo felt relief every time Kek finished a battle unscathed.

"I'm gross," Kek muttered.

"I thought you liked it," Ryo whispered back in between kisses, his face shadowed.

"Not . . . as much as I used to," Kek confessed. "Their blood is cold."

"Then let's get you cleaned up."

Kek nodded. "One last sweep of the top floor to make sure we got them all." A sultry grin lit up Kek's face. "And remember, you were last to be it."

Ryo blushed. "Yeah, I remember, but that doesn't bother me. It's fun both ways."

They found a single stray zombie in one of the rooms they missed during their game. Otherwise, the hospital was theirs. Since the hospital had been overrun at the beginning, most of the non-perishable food items and bottled water still sat in the hospital's cafeteria or the vending machines scattered around each floor. Kek washed and dressed in his favorite dress – the vibrant red. He wore it with black, calf-high boots and red shoe laces.

After he was clean and dressed, Kek and Ryo did food inventory, separating older, suspicious canned goods from the ones that hadn't expired or had recently expired but were _probably_ still safe to eat. From their bounty they chose a large can of stew, one of peas, and devil's food cake flavored pudding for dessert.

Ryo cradled the pudding as if it were a small child. "Let's find a room. It'll be more comfortable."

"Okay. You protect the pudding from harm, and I'll carry the rest of our dinner."

Their footsteps echoed down the halls, sounding ominous and too loud in the quiet building filled with old corpses. Ryo stepped over the stripped bones of an eaten body, sticking his tongue out at Kek as he did it. "Tease me if you want, but I love sweets and this is the closest thing to junk food I've had in over two years!"

Every room they searched reeked of rotting flesh and old blood. They had to go up to the third floor before they found a near clean room to use as their camp. Two beds filled most of the room, but a loveseat sat near the window and that's where they ate dinner. Kek drew the blinds so he could open the window for fresh air. Ryo pointed into the distance. "Look. There are lights on at the Kaiba mansion."

Kek turned his head a moment, before attacking the stew and peas with a can opener. "Yeah, leave it to Kaiba to find a way not to let a minor inconvenience like the end of the world stop him from going about business as normal."

"Well, I'm glad he's okay. He's standoffish, but I think he's secretly a good person. Kaiba Corp does a lot of charities for orphans . . . well, they did." Ryo's eyes beamed. He turned to look at Kek. "Thinking of Kaiba Corp gave me a great idea for our next obstacle course."

Kek raised an eyebrow, dividing their food into bowls they'd brought from the kitchen.

"The Kaiba Corp Stadium. Remember? It's where everyone met before the Battle City Finals."

A grin split Kek's mouth open. "I could have fun there."

"We should build a mini-safe house with food and medical supplies. That way we can rest if we need to."

Kek touched Ryo's loose hair, already starting to grow past his chin. "You say we like you're going to help."

Ryo smiled. "Well, I don't see why not. You don't get to have all the fun." Ryo's smiled turned sheepish. "I'm going to take more breaks than you, of course."

"You've been killing a lot more lately."

Ryo nodded. "I want to save them. You told me that, when we first met, that killing them releases their hearts to be weighed, right? So I want to help."

Kek leaned over and kissed Ryo before handing him a bowl of cold, canned stew. "So when do we start building?"

"First we'll need to secure the stadium; there may be corpses already there. Then we'll need to design the obstacle course."

Kek nodded. "Let's start tomorrow."

"Okay." Ryo nodded. A guilty look crossed his face. "Although, there is something else I want to do."

"What's that?"

"Go to Market Town."

Kek frowned. "I thought you hated that place?"

"I do, but it'd be a waste to let all this medicine go bad when it could save people's lives. I'd rather deliver it to Market Town where it can do some good. Even expired, a lot of it will still work."

Kek rolled his eyes. "You're really hurting my reputation, you know that, right? I'm supposed to put people in the hospital – not deliver medicine to them from the hospital."

Ryo handed Kek the can of pudding. "Here. Be useful while you complain and open this."

He did, and they ate out of the can with two spoons. When finished, Kek leaned back against the sofa arm, staring at Ryo. He stared back at Kek.

"So . . ." Ryo whispered, gaze lidded.

"So . . ." Kek smiled. "When we ended the game, you were it."

He nodded, crawling forward on the couch so he could press his lips against Kek's exposed collarbone. Kek tilted his head to the side, encouraging Ryo to travel his light, feather-soft kisses up Kek's neck. Kek closed his eyes. The ugliness of the hospital room disappeared when he did, and the fresh air outside allowed Kek to imagine they were somewhere else, somewhere thick with maple trees, somewhere with a stream so they didn't have to conserve water.

A soft moan slipped out of Kek's throat when Ryo nipped at Kek's skin. Ryo tangled one hand into Kek's chaos of hair, and slipped his other hand up Kek's thigh. Kek spread his legs, giving Ryo more room to explore. Ryo's fingers dipped beneath the border of Kek's boxer briefs and rubbed little circles against the sensitive skin of Kek's upper thigh.

Ryo dropped to his knees, slipping off the black t-shirt he wore before unlacing Kek's boots. Ryo kissed Kek's knees and the skin right above them. Once Kek's shoes were off, Ryo pulled the black boxer briefs away from Kek's body and kissed up his dark amber thighs.

Kek panted, tossing his head back and keeping his eyes closed as Ryo sucked in the juncture where Kek's leg met his body. Another moan escaped Kek, louder, more wanting. Ryo brushed his fingers up Kek's shaft, still kissing everywhere but.

Kek dug his fingers into the sofa cushions, but it was cheap vinyl and Kek's hand found no purchase, so he grabbed Ryo's hair instead. Ryo took it as a sign to progress further, replacing his gentle touches with slow, languorous swirls of his tongue.

Kek called out, his breathing the loudest sound in the entire hospital. He opened his eyes, admiring the flashlight reflecting off of Ryo's white hair. Ryo happened to glance up at that moment, his brown eyes dark and burning with want. He lowered his mouth fully over Kek's erection, eyes still locked on Kek. Kek shivered, equally undone by Ryo's stare as well as his mouth. His eyes closed again. He tossed his head back a second time. He listened to the mixed sounds of his breathing, crickets, and the cute little sucking sounds Ryo made with his mouth. Almost without warning the pleasure mounted and poured from Kek's body as he writhed in ecstasy.

When Kek opened his eyes again he saw Ryo, flushed, panting, eyes still wanting. Kek pulled Ryo to his feet, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking down the zipper. A soft noise slipped out Ryo's mouth. "Technically not part of the game."

Kek grunted, focused on undressing Ryo and tossing him back on the sofa. "You look too good to pass this up."

His words brought out the color in Ryo's cheeks. Their normal coral looked wine-hued in the shadows. Kek grabbed Ryo's rucksack and grabbed the lube out of the side pocket – they found a novelty store, completely unscavenged, and stocked up. He spread the gel over Ryo's phallus until it was slick, and then situated himself over Ryo, sliding down and gasping. He sat a moment, getting used to the feeling of Ryo inside him without preparation; the skirt of his dress surrounded them like a bed of red flames.

Ryo squeezed Kek's waist, leaning against his chest.

"Good?" Kek asked in a low, teasing voice, raising up and impaling himself once again.

Ryo answered with a sharp noise, clawing into the fabric of Kek's dress. Kek lifted and fell again, resting in between each round of movement. Kek didn't need the breaks; he only paused because he relished the noises he pulled from Ryo's mouth as he drew out the experience.

Ryo wrapped his arms around Kek, pulling him close, grabbing his ass and urging Kek to move faster. Kek indulged him, submitting to the pace established by Ryo's needy grasp. Their sweaty bodies stuck to the vinyl, but neither of them minded as they moved. Outside, a night bird sang with the crickets, Kek heard them in the gaps between Ryo's cries and breaths. Ryo's scars gleamed in the flashlight beam, and Kek traced along the slashes with the tips of his fingers until Ryo held his breath and shuddered as he came.

They stumbled to the nearest bed, crashing into the white sheets. They fell asleep to the sound of crickets, unafraid of the dead.


	17. Chapter 16

Bakura laughed at the constipated look on Miyu's face. "You're trying way too hard, kid."

She growled, opening her lime-green eyes to glare at the older thief. "How am I supposed to summon my ka if I don't concentrate?"

"I said _meditate,_ not necessarily _concentrate_."

"Isn't that the same damn thing?"

"No. Concentration is focusing on something specific. What you need to do is observe the inner state of your being – _don't_ try and control it – become aware of it."

"You sound so gay when you talk like that."

Bakura snorted.

Miyu frowned at him. "No, the lame kind of gay, not the gay kind of gay. Shit, you're so old you don't even know the difference, do you?"

"Just shut-up and try again."

"But I feel stupid sitting here and doing nothing like an asshole."

"That's why it's called _discipline_."

"It should be called _stupid_."

Bakura stood up. "I think it's time for a lunch break."

Miyu jumped up. "Great. I'm starving."

Bakura pushed her shoulder down until she sat again. " _You_ are staying here and meditating. _I'm_ going to get lunch. I'll bring you something back – maybe."

She scrunched up her face, feathers of white hair fluttered around her head in the breeze. "You can't just leave me stranded here on some building in the middle of Nowhere Domino City Wasteland Central. I'm bored as fuck. I'm going with you."

Bakura laughed, waved goodbye, and hitched a ride on Diabound, taking off before Miyu could bitch at him further. The sun beat down on his brown skin, but Bakura liked the burn of it, so much better than the darkness of the Ring. With a subtle flux of will, he had Diabound fly faster so Bakura could feel the wind in his face. He retracted his ka two blocks before Market Town in order to avoid a random traveler seeing the great, white beast.

In town, Bakura stopped to listen to a girl play flute in the streets. Her black hair flashed like onyx. She had a box for tips, filled with trade-worthy items or the occasional can of food. The closest thing Market Town had to paper currency was trading cards. Bakura had more than enough of those. Marik won every game he played and gathered more than they could stash. He insisted Bakura carried some in case he needed money.

Bakura realized they should find semi-permanent shelter. He was sick of sharing a cot in a public room, and sneaking off for sex in the middle of the night was fun at first, but he wanted a bed he could pass out in when he was done.

Bakura pulled out a leather wallet, shuffled through the hateful pieces of paper he'd rather not carry, selected a Court of Justice card, and slipped it beneath a pair of leather gloves someone had placed in the box. The girl stopped a moment, looking shocked at what Bakura had placed in the box – Duel Monster cards were worth more than canned food, which disturbed Bakura. He shrugged and walked away towards the food stands.

He had store credit at most of his favorite places – again, a single card, even a crappy one, could buy a week's worth of meals in advance. He chose a booth with bright orange and green streamers blowing from a sign advertising fried food. He ordered their specialty, random pieces of better-not-ask-what-kind-of-meat speared onto bamboo skewers. The chef wrapped three sticks of meat into a packet woven from bamboo leaves and handed Bakura four such packets. He also purchased two containers of battered and fried onion slices that looked like brown, withered petals but tasted like spice and fire.

He stored the food in his backpack, and headed back out of the town. He half expected to see Miyu walking back towards Market Town on foot, but she sat cross-legged on the roof. Bakura remained soundless, not wanting to interrupt her. Sitting calmly on the roof, she almost looked like an actual child instead of a loud-mouthed-brat.

A flash forced Bakura to close his eyes. He raised a hand in front of his face to shield himself. When he opened his eyes again, an enormous, pearl-white leviathan sat coiled around Miyu. One of the serpent's eyes flashed bright gold, the other a dark, emerald green. Bakura couldn't help but grin. She learned a lot quicker than he had.

"What's her name?" Bakura asked.

Miyu's eyes shot open and the ka vanished. "Dumb-ass pervert! Don't just stare at me when I don't know you're there!"

"You called her. What's her name?"

Miyu crossed her arms over her chest, clenched her jaw shut, and turned away, refusing to answer Bakura's question. It didn't bother him. She wasn't near as stubborn or demanding as Marik. Bakura opened his pack and pulled out the food, waving it for her to see.

She held her breath a moment, trying to resist, but caved as the smell of end-of-the-world junk food reached her nose. "Tiamat."

* * *

"This is great. Like old times," Honda said as they sat around the table and ate supper.

Seto rubbed his temples. Everyone spoke at once, clinking their forks against their plates as they joked and reminisced. He was used to talking, Mokuba never stopped, and it didn't bother him, but there were too many people in the room. He stood up, taking his plate with him. "Excuse me. I have some work to do."

"Come on, bro. One night off won't kill you."

No, it wouldn't kill him, merely drive him insane.

"Yeah, Kaiba, don't be such a wet blanket," Jonouchi said. "Tell us about your duel with Atem. I'm assuming he won since you haven't kicked us out on the streets yet."

"Oh, we haven't finished our game yet." Atem winked at Seto. "I think we're going to need another rematch."

Seto turned away from the others so they didn't see the corner of his lip curl upwards, but before he walked away he replied. "Can't wait to see who ends up on top."

He retreated into his study where he could enjoy his dinner in silence. He ate, thinking as he chewed. After supper, Seto grabbed a legal pad, separating knowns and unknowns about the plague into a two column list.

Atem opened the door without knocking and invited himself into the study. He walked up to Seto and sat on the arm of the over-stuffed chair that Seto occupied. "Mind if I sit here?"

"If it's not a disease, if it's not nanobots, or some sort of drug, what causes the dead to rise?" Seto kept his eyes on his paper, thinking.

"I'm going to take that as a 'no'." Atem snorted, leaning over to look at Seto's list. "Seto, you can't scientifically fix this. It's Shadow Magic. I need to get the Millennium Tome so I can undo the Shadow Alchemy that caused the plague."

One might think Seto would find the explanation hard to believe, but Kisara had taught him to consider alternative possibilities. Atem's very presence suggested the truth in his words. "Why here? Why Domino City?"

"I don't know. Perhaps because this is where I returned when Yugi solved the Puzzle." Atem rested his palm on Seto's shoulder. "Seto, everyone's worried that you're unhappy. Why didn't you finish eating with the rest of us?"

Seto pressed his lips together. They felt dry. "Too crowded."

"Aren't you lonely in here?"

The distraction from his train of thought annoyed Seto. "No. I'm thinking. You wanted my help, not my company."

"I wanted both," Atem said.

"Look." Seto paused. He never tried explaining himself to anyone before, and wondered why he felt he needed to do so now. "It's exhausting. I wake up, go to meetings, negotiate contracts, conduct interviews. Even now I have to speak with doctors, engineers, the minor staff. I'm surrounded by people all the time. At the end of the day, I need it to be quiet. You morons can joke and talk about old times until dawn if you want. Leave me out of it. I'd rather be here, trying to figure things out so tomorrow we can initiate a plan."

"We have to find the Tome," Atem said.

"Who has it?"

Atem shrugged. "I'm not sure."

Seto furrowed his brows. "Then how are you sure it's here?"

"The gods told me it was here."

Seto rubbed his temples. "Why didn't they just resurrect you to where the Tome was?"

"I don't know."

"Did they tell you _why_ some maniac decided to unleash a zombie apocalypse with an ancient Egyptian spell book? Or why they waited _two years_ to bring you back and help?"

Atem shook his head. "No."

Seto tapped the back of his pen against the notebook. Atem stood up and wandered around the study, examining the thick, dusty spines of row upon of row of books. Seto glanced at him for a moment before returning to his own thoughts. "Something must have changed."

"What do you mean?" Atem asked from the bookshelf.

"If they waited two years, another variable must have entered the equation. Something that forced their hand." Seto stood up and walked out of the study.

"Hey, where are you going?" Atem chased after him.

Mokuba had them gathered in the game room. The girls crowded around the pool table, laughing at some joke Seto hadn't caught. Honda and Mokuba took turns at the dart board.

Seto walked up to Yugi, playing poker with Jonouchi, and dropped his notebook on top of their game. "What's changed recently?"

"Kaiba, we're playing a game, man." Jonouchi tried to removed the legal pad from the card table, but Seto kept the weight of his hand pressed against the paper.

Jonouchi growled, and Seto shot him a cold glare before turning back to Yugi. "I haven't seen the city in over two years. You have. Has anything changed from now since the beginning?"

Yugi shrugged, bright purple eyes wide. "Everything's changed since the beginning."

"Naturally, but has anything seemed out of place in the last few months?"

"You mean besides the corpses?"

"Shut up, Katsuya," Seto snapped. "This is important."

"Well." Yugi rubbed his shoulder, an insecure expression on his face. "It doesn't seem like much, but . . . never mind. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Tell me."

"I don't have any proof. It's just a feeling. You'd think I was being stupid, Seto."

"Tell me regardless."

Yugi stared at the Persian rug beneath his feet. "Well, at first everyone wanted to survive, but we got used to it, right? We learned how to fight, and scavenge, and grow food on the rooftops. People adapted to their new lives. You'd expect that, right? And the more people learned how to live despite the zombies, the more popular games got, especially Duel Monsters. That, by itself, isn't weird. Only . . . it kept getting worse. It seems like it's gone from hobby to obsession to . . ."

"To what?" Seto asked.

Yugi shook his head, looking back up at Seto. "It's like a religion now. People have a look in their eyes when they play . . . It reminds me of Battle City. Specifically, it reminds me of fighting the Ghouls, the guys Marik controlled through Shadow Magic – kinda hypnotized, and dark, and angry."

"Battle City . . ." Seto muttered. His expression looked blank, but his mind reeled.

"What's going on, bro?" Mokuba asked, walking up to the card table. "Sounds like you've thought of something."

Seto glanced at his brother. "Mokuba, design a flier. We're going to host a Return to Battle City Tournament."

Mokuba nodded. "Give me an hour to draw something up. How many copies to you want to print?"

"How much paper to we have? I want them all over Domino."

"Done." Mokuba marched off without question, his ponytail swinging behind him.

"Seto." Atem frowned. Seto couldn't help but notice the way his brow wrinkled from the expression, or how it made his lips look full and pouty. "I love Duel Monsters as much as you, but now really isn't the time to have a tournament."

"You don't know who has this Tome, or where they are, or what they plan on doing. So we need a business plan that's more reasonable, and less risky, than knocking on doors. What do we know for certain? We know the gods waited two years to resurrect you, so let's assume the gods actually have a reason for their actions. Something must be about to happen, something big enough that they had to act. Time isn't a resource we can squander in this situation."

"So we're going to ignore the problem and play card games?" Atem lifted his voice. Seto noticed everyone dropping their games and gathering around them in a circle.

Seto sighed, exasperated. "The Tome, the Items, and Duel Monsters are all connected, correct?"

"Yes," Atem answered. "The Tome contained the spell that created the Items. In Egypt, we used the Items to judge criminals and seal the evil in their hearts into stone slabs. Pegasus created Duel Monsters based off of those slabs."

"We sealed their souls – not necessarily the evil in them. There are light-based creatures in the game," Seto said.

Atem opened his mouth to argue with Seto, but then pressed his lips together. "Fine. I still don't see why you want to have a tournament."

"No, it's brilliant." Yugi stood up, beaming with excitement. "Even if we split up, which is dangerous, we may not even find the Tome. Seto's setting a trap to lure him to _us_."

Seto gave a single nod of his head. "Precisely."

* * *

The apartment complex stood three stories higher than the rest of Market Town, making it isolated and the perfect place for Marik and Bakura to build a lean-to. It also had a view of Miyu's hovel, which made picking her up for training in the mornings convenient. Bakura glanced down to the small tin-sheet and tarp shack the eleven-year-old called home. The glow from a small oil lamp lit up the window, but the child herself was most likely asleep. She liked the dark as much as Marik, but Bakura never asked. He knew better than to ask.

Bakura, Marik, Rishid, and Ishizu sat on hand-woven mats arranged in a circle. Marik fidgeted with a flashlight. He didn't turn it on – batteries were scarce, no matter how many trading cards one owned – but he toyed with the on switch as if he wanted to press it up. The night sky sprawled out above them, endless black and countless chips of white. Rishid insisted they meet late, when no one could overhear them.

"So," Marik stared up at the sky. The starlight played a beautiful trick with the color of his eyes, and Bakura lifted his hand to touch Marik's cheek before he remembered that they weren't alone. Marik smiled for a moment before returning his attention to Rishid. "You know for sure? It's him?"

"A foreigner in a robe with hieratic carved into his arms and face. They said the symbols looked like the ones on my face," Rishid said. "It has to be him."

"But no one knows where he goes?"

"No. From what I could tell, he's only been to town two or three times."

"For supplies?"

Rishid shrugged.

Marik growled. "This feels useless. We're not getting information fast enough, and I've never thought I'd say this, but I'm sick of Duel Monsters. I can't take two steps without some asshole challenging me."

Rishid shrugged. "That's because you're too proud to throw your matches once in awhile. You've become a local hero. The mystical Egyptian who never loses a game."

Marik rolled his eyes.

Ishizu rested a sympathetic hand on Marik's knee. "Try to be patient, brother. You're a good distraction. Everyone's so concerned with trying to defeat you, that no one notices Rishid asking questions. I know our progress is slow, but we'll find the Tome."

"And then what? What are we going to do with it? I know we came here to take it back and try to help, but we never really thought of an endgame."

Bakura sighed, looking anywhere but at the three tomb-keepers. "Isn't it obvious? You're going to have to give it to _him_. That's why the gods brought him back."

"Bakura," Marik whispered. "Are you okay with that?"

Bakura snorted. "Well, I'm sure as hell not going to hand it to him. You can do whatever you want."

"I'll do it." Ishizu smiled. "I'll be happy to see the Pharaoh once again."

Bakura dropped down to his back, crossing his fingers behind his head and using his interlocked hands as a pillow. "Yes, a lovely reunion, I'm sure. Just keep it on the _other_ end of Market Town."

Ishizu stood up. "It's late. We better retire for the evening."

Marik stood up as well to hug them goodbye and escort them across the ramp they'd constructed to connect their rooftop with the town proper. When he returned, he dropped down so that he straddled Bakura's crotch.

Bakura purred an approving noise at Marik's choice of seating. "Ready for bed?"

Marik shifted a calculating inch. "Let's stay out here tonight."

They had a lean-to, a scrap-pile of tarp, rope, and boards, but Marik hated the small, dark space. The initial brickwork for a larger, proper building sat in the back corner of the apartment roof; however, it'd be at least two weeks before Bakura finished its construction. He'd drawn a blueprint the week prior, and used Diabound to carry several pallets of bricks from a ransacked hardware store to their roof.

Marik teased him each time he saw the old tomb-robber mixing cement and smearing the thick mess over layers of brick with a trowel, but Bakura came from a line of tomb-builders, and he had the same pride for his skills with stonework as his skills with thieving – both skills gifts from his clan. Besides, Marik didn't know it yet, but he was going to stop laughing when Bakura showed him the all-glass retractable roof he had in mind to build.

Bakura looked at Marik. "Only if you strip for me."

"Out in the open?" Marik raised a golden eyebrow, licking his bottom lip. "How scandalous."

"I want to see the moonlight on your skin."

For a second, Marik looked bashful, as if hyper aware of his own beauty. The look vanished after a moment, and Marik made a show of pulling the tank-top off of his torso. He rolled his abs as he slipped the fabric up over his head. The polished-brass color of his hair glowed almost as white as Bakura's in the moonlight. It hung several centimeters below his shoulders. As Bakura stared at Marik, he felt the desire in his belly swell and materialize into something almost tangible.

"Now your pants," Bakura whispered.

Marik hitched his thumbs into his belt loops, pulling the fabric away from his sculpted abs to tease Bakura. "What am I getting in return for this little show?"

Bakura smirked. "Anything you want."

"You sure about that? I'm very greedy."

"I like a challenge."

Marik stood up and kicked off his shoes. He unzipped his pants, folding one side down to expose the bare skin beneath. He did the same for the other flap, grazing his fingernails up his belly. Bakura shivered at the sight. Marik turned away, peeking at Bakura over his shoulder as he slipped his pants an inch lower on his hips. With a swing of his hips, Marik rolled the fabric down a second inch, then a third, before he circled his hips and allowed the fabric to drop away from his body. He stepped out of the pants and then attacked Bakura.

Bakura arched his back when Marik's teeth found the side of his neck. Marik outlined Bakura's shoulder with bites, and then ripped the shirt off of Bakura's torso with a single, unceremonious tug. He gave Bakura's pants the same treatment, and when they lay together naked beneath the stars, Marik teased Bakura by pressing against him, firm enough for Bakura to feel the pressure, but not enough to try and enter.

"Uh . . . Marik?"

Before Bakura finished, Marik pushed himself up off of Bakura. "Fuck. Yeah, I'll get it."

Marik grabbed his flashlight and ran to their lean-to. Bakura smiled as he again thought of what Marik's reaction would be when he realized they'd get to sleep beneath the moonlight every night. A moment later Marik returned with a small bottle. He only pumped Bakura a few times with his fingers before easing into Bakura's body.

Bakura held his breath, arched his back, and enjoyed the moon's reflection off of Marik's shoulders as they moved.


	18. Chapter 17

*****Disclaimer: Lemon (Ishizu x Rishid lemon o_0 I don't even know why . . . I just felt bad for them, like they deserved a lemon for some reason. Plus, it seemed kinda unbalanced that only the male/male couples have lemon sections. I've never really written a hetero lemon before, so sorry if it sucks).*****

* * *

In order to give Marik and Bakura more privacy, Ishizu and Rishid rented their own place in the center of what served as Market Town's residential district. Ishizu tried not to think of why there was a pre-furnished, but vacant, shanty for them to rent, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder who'd lived there before her, and how they died.

Ishizu pushed the dark thoughts from her mind, instead focusing on her reflection in the mirror. She wore a long, white shift. Unbinding her braid, Ishizu brushed her hair, watching the comb slip through the thick, black sheet. Then she noticed Rishid's reflection in the mirror behind her.

After waiting so long, Rishid finally kissed her on their first night in their new place, a chaste, timid press of his lips against hers. Afterward, he drew away and refused to go anywhere near Ishizu when they were alone. Ishizu turned around and offered Rishid her comb. "Will you help me with the back?"

He stepped back, staring at the comb with the same wary look he'd give a trap card. Ishizu smiled at his suspicion. Too polite to refuse her, Rishid walked up and took the comb from her hand.

Ishizu stood up and grabbed his shoulders.

"Ishizu?" he whispered.

She drew close, their noses almost touching. "Rishid . . . we're not underground anymore."

He looked down. "I know."

She let go of his shoulders only to lift up his face. "Then, please, don't run away after I do this."

She leaned in, kissing him as she should have years ago. Rishid dropped the comb. His hands dashed to her hair, combing the thick black with his fingers instead. Rishid broke the kiss. Ishizu sighed, worried that he'd leave, but Rishid lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bed near Ishizu's vanity mirror.

He lay her down gently onto the mattress, caressing her face and staring at her with pale, hazel eyes. He smiled, and Ishizu found herself smiling because of his smile. Rishid bent down and initiated a kiss, and Ishizu's heart quickened. She kneaded his shoulders, and he tasted her mouth.

It was like a dam broke between them. They'd held themselves back from each other for so long that they couldn't slow down now that they'd started. Rishid grabbed the fabric of Ishizu's shift and tore the thin material, exposing her dark skin beneath the cloth. Ishizu fought free of the shift, tossing it to the floor.

He kissed down her throat and around her collarbone, traveling up the swell of her breast and lingering there. He pressed soft kisses around her cocoa-colored aureolas, and dabbed his tongue against her nipples.

Ishizu sighed a soft, high note of pleasure. She tried to stay composed; she'd been trained since birth to stay dignified, controlled, stoic, nothing more than a vessel to fill with future tomb-keepers – underlings for Marik's theoretical heir.

But that world ended. That world ended when her father died, and the world they emerged into ended when the Millennium Tome disappeared and the dead rose. And yet, each time the world seemed to end, Ishizu found herself feeling a little more alive.

Rishid moved down her stomach, kissing each part of her. The expression on his face glowed with a mix of joy and adoration. Ishizu looked down to watch him. To look at one's body, in traditional tomb-keeper culture, was taboo – especially for women. One's body belonged to the Pharaoh. A vessel to serve. A vessel to remain pure. It wasn't something to admire or enjoy, but Ishizu couldn't help but feel beautiful when Rishid kissed her skin. He treated it like it was part of her, not a vessel for the Pharaoh, but a vessel for her soul.

He kissed between her legs, and Ishizu felt like she glowed inside, a golden light hidden by her dusky skin. Her cheeks burned as she continued to watch him. She saw the mounds of her breast, then the flat stretch of her brown belly, then her thighs rising up on either side of Rishid.

Then the quickening of her heart went rampant. Her hands reached out, grabbing the back of Rishid's head and pushing him harder against her. The noise of her own scream shocked her, but it didn't stop her pulse from stampeding through her veins.

After her heart beat slowed down, Ishizu spread herself wide, closing her eyes and waiting for Rishid to mount her. She felt his hand on her cheeks. She opened her eyes and looked at him. She could tell by his gaze that he expected her to say something.

She looked away before speaking. "Please, Rishid."

"Ishizu, why do you look scared?"

Ishizu gave him a sad smile. "I'm acting silly, like a young girl, aren't I?"

Rishid shook his head _no_ , his face serious.

Ishizu started unbuttoning Rishid's shirt, needing something for her hands to do as she spoke in a low whisper. "I know I am. I should have been married and bedded at half this age. Maybe even with child that long ago." She slipped the shirt away from Rishid's shoulders and placed a few light kisses on his chest. "Please, Rishid."

Rishid took her hand and kissed it. "I think I understand, but don't worry, Ishizu. I don't imagine arranged marriages made for good honeymoons. The stories we heard underground . . . I don't think it's always like that."

She nodded, the tension easing away from her muscles. The wet nurses always spoke of pain and blood when they spoke of a woman's first time, and Ishizu wasn't sure what to expect.

He held her hands. "This isn't duty . . . I haven't stayed all these years because of duty. I love you, Ishizu. I've loved you since we were children."

She wrapped her arms around him, her own _I love you_ muffled against his chest. They started kissing again. Ishizu pulled at Rishid's pants until they were crumpled on the floor next to her torn shift. The older women had always spoke of pain and blood, and Ishizu had been nervous, but when Rishid entered her, she felt excitement instead of pain. Twice, he grew too eager, pushing a little too hard, but both times Ishizu reminded him to be gentle and he complied with softer movement and sweet kisses against her throat. Just as before, when Rishid had kissed the pearl between her legs, her heartbeat raced through her, and she heard her voice loud and untamed in her own ears. Afterward, she held Rishid with both arms and legs and didn't let go. Even after Rishid called out, even after he nuzzled against her in order to fall asleep in her arms, Ishizu refused to let go.

* * *

Yugi stood at the gate, staring past the iron bars. Atem walked up behind him, patting Yugi's shoulder. "C'mon, Yugi. Unlock the gate so we can go. We have a lot of fliers to distribute."

Yugi turned and stared at Atem. "Look. Haven't you noticed?"

Atem looked up. "Noticed what? Everything looks the same."

"The street looks the same, and the old cars, and the buildings, but everything's empty. Where did the undead go?"

"Well, that strange music kept playing. It must have drawn them all away."

Yugi shook his head. "Some would have come back."

Atem shrugged, turning to walk away. "It's a blessing. Let's not question our good fortune."

Yugi sighed and followed Atem. It was a blessing, but it was also a puzzle piece, and Yugi felt compelled to put it in place.

Mokuba drove again, less reckless than before. Jonouchi sat beside him. The back seat held Atem, Yugi, and Anzu. Yugi sat in the middle since he was the smallest. Everyone else stayed behind. They brought their guns and the remaining grenades, expecting to fight their way through the streets, but Domino seemed like a ghost town.

"It's quiet," Anzu noticed.

"It's daytime," Jonouchi said.

"Yeah, but . . . I've never seen the streets so empty."

"I thought the same," Yugi said.

They made through three settlements before they saw their first zombie. Yugi almost felt relieved at the sight of it. It proved that something did change near the hospital, that it wasn't Yugi's imagination. They drove past the corpse who reached out to them like a drowning man reaching for a branch. The further from Seto's place they drove, the more dead they saw. The sound of the Porsche drew the corpses to them in the streets. Unless they had to stop to deliver a flier, they drove past the gray and bruised bodies.

Mokuba drove back to the mansion before sunset, not wanting to be trapped by a herd of undead. They made it through a large chunk of Domino, but would have to make several trips before their stack of fliers disappeared.

Back at Kaiba's place, Yugi waited for the sun to burn orange in the horizon and then die down to ash and embers. Then he crept back to the gate, to see if any corpses wandered the streets after dark. Yugi heard crickets and locusts, smelt old, burned flesh mixed with the sweet smell of the grass on Seto's lawn, saw stars burning like gods in the indigo sky, but the only thing that walked the streets was a mangy dog. Yugi called to the animal, but it ran away at the sound of his voice.

"Atem said I might find you here."

Yugi turned and smiled when he saw Anzu. "Hi."

She kissed his cheek and looked out into the streets. "It's almost beautiful, isn't it? The stars, and the grasses growing up between the sidewalk cracks. If only it was safe to go out into the streets and turn all those old cars into flower beds."

"Someone's hunting the undead," Yugi muttered, watching the empty street.

"I saw smoke rising from the hospital about a week ago, but I didn't think anything of it at the time. Something is always burning now a days."

"I don't see how it's possible. Shouldn't we have heard gunshots? It doesn't make any sense."

"I don't know." Anzu grabbed Yugi's hand.

He kissed her palm before lowering their joined hands. "Anyway, was there something you wanted to tell me? You came all the way out here to find me."

"Oh." Anzu pulled her hand away. "I just . . . I'll tell you later. You have a lot on your mind right now."

"Not so much that I don't want to hear what you have to say." Yugi grabbed her hand again and led her away from the gate. "Have you seen the gardens here? They're beautiful."

Anzu smiled. "Of course. I was practicing the other day under the maple trees. It was nice . . . I can't really remember the last time I danced."

"Let's take a walk." Yugi squeezed her hand.

A mischievous smile lit up her face. "No – let's race!" She pulled away from him and ran towards the sculpted hedges and flower beds.

"No fair!" Yugi laughed as he chased after her.

She was little more than a graceful shadow in the moonlight. As they raced away from the gate, the dirty smells of the streets disappeared, replaced with hibiscus and magnolia. Anzu finally allowed herself to be caught near a koi pond hidden within a half-circle of shrubs. Yugi grabbed her and pulled her down for a kiss. When they pulled apart, he watched her face as she stared at the water.

"So," he said, "what did you want to tell me earlier?"

She smiled, kneeling in the grass and dipping her hand in the little pond. "I'm late."

"Late?" Yugi blinked, confused for a second, but then he realized what she meant. "You're late?"

She nodded. "So I went to the medical staff – a lot of them came here once the hospital failed."

"And?" Yugi almost shouted the question, his palms slick with perspiration and his eyes wide. His knees crashed to the grass below so he could kneel next to her as she glided her fingers through the water.

Anzu grinned. "You really do have a way with luck, Yugi. Our first try did it."

He did shout then, laughing and tackling Anzu to the grass, covering both her face and stomach with dozens of kisses.

* * *

"Huh." Ryo wiped sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand. He leaned against the nearest wall to catch his breath between waves of undead. "There's always a lot of corpses near Market Town. They're drawn by all the people, but I've never seen this many before."

"This is great!" Kek wore nothing but a stained pair of boxer briefs. It was easier to clean the gore off of his body without the extra clothing, so he stopped wearing clothes as he fought. Ryo carried a large pack, but Kek remained unbound so he could fight.

More undead stumbled towards them, tripping over the piles of dispatched bodies and crawling closer on hands and knees. Ryo straightened, preparing to attack again. "I'm at twenty-nine."

"You're so adorable when you count." Kek winked at him. "One-hundred and thirteen."

Ryo's mouth dropped. "Are you fucking serious?"

Kek beamed. "Haven't you noticed? I'm getting even better at killing them."

"Yeah, I have noticed. It's . . . unreal to watch you, but over one-hundred? You're like a legend."

But Kek couldn't hear Ryo, he was too busy slicing through another cluster, moving so fast that he looked blurry when Ryo tried to watch him. They fought their way through the block until they reached the first ladder leading to Market Town.

Once on the rooftops, Kek frowned. "Let's get this over with. I don't like the idea of being around so many people."

Ryo raised an eyebrow. "Bummed out because you can't kill the living kind?"

Kek shrugged. "I guess not all people should die. I like you. Doesn't mean I want to be surrounded by them."

"On that we agree." Ryo sighed. "I'd rather not be here either, but we really should share this medicine."

"Does this place have a bathhouse?"

Ryo nodded. "Last time I was here. Come on. Let's wash all this gore off of us."

Although covered in blood, no one gave them a second glance. Ryo looked around, the town had grown since the last time he visited. New buildings sprung up in previously empty spaces, more paint colored the walls like a Picasso canvas, and herb and small vegetable gardens now appeared on windowsills and in wooden crates near the homes.

Ryo saw a bird bath in the center of tomato plants. Two sparrows splashed in the water. A few feet away, a pair of golden eyes gleamed from an open doorway – a cat waiting to pounce.

"Everything looks nice, but . . . is it just me, or do the people seem strange?"

Kek nodded. He walked close to Ryo, like a scared child on his first day to school.

"Last time I was here, everyone was building, or trying to clean up scavenged items, or even learning how to make new things like wick-lamps, but now . . ." Ryo let the sentence die on his tongue.

Now they sat in the shade of awnings or doorways, playing cards and muttering into their score sheets. Everywhere Ryo looked, he saw unshaven, unwashed people. Dark circles from sleepless nights sagged beneath their eyes.

"This isn't right at all," Ryo muttered, holding Kek's hand. "Let's hurry up and get the hell out of here."

He thought someone might protest their holding hands, but they seemed as indifferent to Ryo and Kek's display of affection as they were to Kek's near-naked, blood-soaked appearance. They found a bathhouse, empty besides the proprietor playing a game of Duel Monsters against an old man.

"We'd like a bath," Ryo said.

"Want to duel for it?" he asked without looking up from his hand.

"N-no," Ryo stuttered. "I have a bottle of unopened aspirin to trade."

The man sighed, as if Ryo and Kek and aspirin were all a burden to him. "Whatever. Just leave it at the desk and go on. We're trying to duel."

Ryo tossed the bottle, not wanting to step near the people. He and Kek disappeared into the back. The fire was out, the ashes and stones cold, and the large, central tub mildewed. Ryo shook his head. "This place was nice the last time I came here, too crowded, but nice."

"I'll get a fire going if you clean the tub," Kek said.

Ryo shivered despite the warmth of the room. He found a rag and bottle of vinegar in a little side closet and went to work on the tub.

"Do you feel it?" Kek asked.

Ryo nodded. "Shadow Magic. This whole town is rank with it. No wonder so many corpses have wandered here."

"At least we don't need to build an obstacle course now. Come here a few nights, and I'll never get bored with the slaughter."

"Not as fun, though." Ryo tried to joke, although he felt ill at ease.

"No, definitely not as fun. Although, I'd rather be in the streets with the dead, than up top with these people."

"They're like zombies themselves," Ryo agreed.

"The kind I can't kill . . . that's a little unsettling to think about. Not having the option."

When the fire burned hot and the stones glowed red, they ladled water on them to fill the room with steam. They used terry clothes to scrub as much blood and filth off of their bodies as they could before slipping into the hot water.

Ryo sighed. "I haven't had a bath in almost a year – that was the last time I came here – it was for my birthday. The people made me nervous, though. This many people . . . it's like asking the zombies to target you."

Kek grinned, grabbing a clean cloth. "Turn around."

Ryo did as told, and Kek began washing his back and shoulders.

"Oh, that's nice," Ryo purred. "When you're done, I'll do you."

"You will, will you?" Kek asked, his mouth a mere centimeter from Ryo's ear.

Ryo felt himself blush. "You know what I meant."

Kek nibbled on Ryo's earlobe.

Ryo giggled. "Don't get me all flustered here. This place is creepy."

"Normally that would be a turn on." Kek handed Ryo the towel so they could switch roles. "But all the Shadow Magic makes my head hurt, so I'll let it go for now."

Ryo worked the cloth against Kek's copper-colored skin. "I'll make it up to you as soon as we get home."

"Promise?"

Ryo reached around Kek in order to drag his fingers across Kek's belly. "Yeah."

"Good."

After their bath, they dressed, Ryo in his pin-striped pants, vest, and red blouse, Kek in his scarlet dress. Ryo waited for the proprietor to comment on Kek's appearance as they left the bathhouse, but neither man looked up from his cards. It was the same throughout the town. Simply no one cared. Cats and children ran through the streets and they looked happy, but all the adults and adolescents avoided the sunlight and dueled.

As they neared the market, one such child bumped into Ryo.

"Sorry, mister!" she called as she ran by.

Some part of Ryo that once shared a spiritual connection with the Thief of the Ring realized what she'd done right away – the little knife on his belt gone. He chased after the girl.

"Excuse me!" He shouted at her as he jogged behind her. "Excuse me, little girl! I'm sorry, but that was my father's pocket knife! Please give it back! I'll trade something else for it!"

Ryo didn't think she'd stop. He expected her to dash down an alley and disappear forever, but to his surprise, she did stop.

He and Kek caught up to her and she spun around, shoving the pocket knife into Ryo's hands. "Urg! Here! Damn-it, I'm getting soft."

"Thank you." Ryo bowed. "It's the only memento I have of my dad. It means a lot to me that you gave it back."

"Whatever." The girl crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, don't make a big deal out of it, okay? I'll just go."

"Wait." Ryo held out his hand. "What do you want to trade?"

The girl crammed both hands into her pockets. Ryo noticed her jeans, black tank-top, and tennis shoes all looked brand new, and she appeared clean and well fed. She didn't look like a street orphan at all, so he wondered why she was pickpocketing. "Nothing. Just let it go."

"Pick something. I insist."

She rolled her eyes, a gold-green color that shamed the alley cats creeping through the streets. "Fine. Gimme your hat."

"Okay." Ryo smiled, taking off the black hat with a red band and putting it over her head.

"You're too damn nice, Ryo." Kek snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

She looked at Kek, staring at him.

"What?" he snapped at her.

"Nothing." She scowled. "You just look like some other asshole I know."

Ryo couldn't help but giggle at the way she said it. "Really? Who else could possibly look like Kek? He's sort of unique, don't you think?"

The girl shrugged. "His name's Marik."

"Oh fuck." Kek ground his teeth together. "That asshole's in Domino? Come on, Ryo. I think it's time we get the fuck out of here and go home."

"Wait." The girl tugged at Ryo's vest. "Look, I know this is crazy, but if your name's Ryo, well, you wouldn't happen to know a guy named Bakura, would you?"

"That's my last name – wait, oh shit." Ryo looked at Kek. "If you're back, then do you think the gods would bring him back?"

Kek shrugged.

Ryo turned back to the girl. "Does he look like me?"

"No. Not really. His hair is white like ours, but his skin is dark. I mean, you'd definitely know it was him if you knew him. He's a giant, sarcastic, asshole who laughs like a jackass and never shuts up."

Kek snickered. "Okay, maybe I like this kid after all. That was a pretty accurate description."

Ryo sighed. "Yeah . . . we know him. Why do you ask?"

The girl shrugged. "He's been looking for you."


	19. Chapter 18

Bakura kept his eyes on the grill, checking the breasts to make sure they were cooked through.

"What's for dinner, Bakura?"

"Pigeon and grilled leeks. Go wash your hands or you're not getting a damn thing, Miyu," he muttered as he started piling the food on top of a platter.

The girl snorted. "Fine with me. I hate leeks. I brought your friend."

That made Bakura look up, expecting Rishid. What he saw was a well-dressed man with short, white hair, covered in scars, with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Actually," Ryo said. "We were more like roommates than friends."

Bakura's mouth hung open, but he couldn't find any words. He was too shocked by Ryo's appearance to speak. Finally, he managed, "You look like shit."

"Fuck you, he's sexy as hell," another voice behind Ryo snapped.

Bakura started, not sure how to feel about the person standing behind Ryo. Confused, yes, that was the primary emotion, but he hadn't made it past the initial shock yet to decide how he'd ultimately feel. "What are you doing here?"

"That's a good question," he said, taking a step closer to Ryo. "What are we doing here? This kid dragged us through town insisting Ryo find you. What do you want?"

Bakura continued to stare. The doppelganger looked less like Marik than during their last encounter, though no less intimidating. He wore a dress, yes, and Bakura would have already laughed at him had the thief not been so confused, yes, but that didn't make Marik's former alter ego any less intimidating. The doppelganger's hands twitched near the handles of two kukris he wore at his hips. His lilac eyes stayed trained on Bakura, as if expecting Bakura to leap up and start trouble. The look, strangely enough, reminded Bakura of Yugi – bright, purple, and determined to protect. Bakura realized that Marik's alter ego wasn't concerned for himself. From what Bakura could see, he was trying to guard Ryo.

It was enough to allow a smirk to form on Bakura's face. "That's a cute girlfriend you got there, Ryo."

"What the fuck do you want, Bakura?" Ryo's face looked like alabaster, pale, white, and hard.

"I have a message for you," he said, the smirk gone from his face as he looked at his former host.

"From who?"

Bakura dropped his eyes back to the grill, preferring to look at the wavy lines rising up into the air above the glowing red embers and gray ash. He spoke her name in a quiet voice, knowing that simply hearing it would set Ryo on edge. "Amane."

Bakura didn't flinch when the tip of a naginata blade pressed against the bottom hollow of his throat. He merely raised his eyes back up to look at Ryo's angry expression. Marik's other half stood and watched with a grin on his face while Miyu jumped back a few steps.

Ryo's lips formed a thin, tight, white line. "Bakura, I swear, if you're fucking with me, if this is some twisted joke, I will send you back to whatever asshole god you convinced to bring you back."

"I suppose that would be Thoth, but to be fair, I tricked him into it. With a pair of dice Amane gave me."

Miyu took a few more steps towards Bakura and away from Ryo. "Holy shit, Bakura, you piss everyone off, don't you?"

"Miyu, go inside," he said.

"And miss out on your ex-boyfriend kicking your ass? I don't think so."

Bakura rolled his eyes; he couldn't help it. It didn't matter that a gleaming blade tickled his skin, or that the mood in the air was tense and stressful. Fortunately, Miyu's words seemed to have the same effect on Ryo. He stepped back, removing the blade from Bakura's throat.

"No, it's not like that." Ryo's cheeks were light pink.

The absurdity of it broke the tension in the air. Bakura chuckled low in his throat at the sight of Ryo's ruddy cheeks. Ryo glared at Bakura, and Bakura stood up, dusting off his jeans and waving off Ryo's angry look. "Write her."

Ryo blinked. "What?"

"Write her. She wants some damn letters. It's not easy to worry a spirit in Aaru, but you've managed to cause her a lot of grief."

Ryo's hands gripped the handle of his naginata. "Then why didn't she come back to tell me herself?"

Bakura sighed, pushing his mop of white hair away from his eyes. "Because she's a good person, Ryo. Good people don't cheat in a dice game against the gods – that's my job." He turned to go into the house. "C'mon, Miyu."

Before she could argue with Bakura, Ryo slammed his naginata on the ground. It clattered on the roof-top as Ryo rushed Bakura. Ryo pounded his fists against Bakura's chest. Tears leaked down his ivory cheeks and fell onto his scarred arms. "Just what the hell am I suppose to write? Tell me! Dear Amane – today I bashed in a girl's skull with a brick. She was the same age as you. Dear Amane – today I ate some beetles I found crawling in the attic because I haven't eaten in three days. Dear Amane – today I hid under a pile of corpses to avoid being seen by two living people because I didn't know if they'd try to help me or try to rape me! Is that what I should write, Bakura?"

Bakura stood there, allowing Ryo to beat at his chest and scream. At the beginning of the outbreak, Miyu scurried into the house. Violence she could handle; emotional outbursts she avoided like they were the walking dead.

Bakura reached up and patted Ryo's shoulder. "Write about him." Bakura gestured to Marik's other personality when he noticed the strange effect Ryo's suffering seemed to have on Marik's double.

Ryo stood straight and turned around to look at his travel companion. The doppelganger stood close behind Ryo, wiping tears off his own cheeks as he listened to Ryo scream.

Ryo grabbed the bare, bronzed shoulders and helped dry the tears off his companion's cheeks. "Oh, don't cry, Kek. I didn't mean to make you cry again. It hasn't been all bad – I've been really happy since I've found you."

 _Kek_ , Bakura thought of the name, and remembered stories about the old gods that came before Ra, Osiris, and Isis; Nun and Naunet, Amun and Amaunet, Heh and Hauhet, and then Kek and Kuaket.

"Why," Kek sniffed, "didn't you ever tell me? That you suffered that much. Why didn't you let me know?"

"I didn't want you to know," Ryo said, kissing a stray tear off of Kek's cheek.

Bakura felt horribly third wheel. He grabbed the platter of meat and vegetables, and prepared to sneak inside the house and find Miyu, when Marik's voice carried over the wind.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

Bakura sighed and looked at the ramp that conjoined their living space with the rest of Market Town. Marik marched up the plank with an angry look on his face.

Bakura noticed Kek drying his eyes in a rush and managing to put on a haughty look before he spun around with a hand on his hip in order to shout back, "I'm wearing an _Oscar de la Renta_. What the hell are _you_ wearing? I've never seen you look so dull and common before."

Because of the heat, Marik wore stone-washed jeans and a white tank-top. He had his hair pulled back, showing off the gold at his throat. Bakura absentmindedly smiled at the sight of him, rubbing the bracelet around own wrist that matched the rest of Marik's gold jewelry.

Marik reached their location on the roof. He took a moment to get a closer inspection of his double. "I'm wearing normal clothes."

"Normal." Kek snorted. "Is that what you've been reduced to without me? There was a time when we were too good for mediocrity."

Marik ground his teeth, his hands clenched into fists. "How are you even back? How are you in your own body?"

"Isis. She wants me to kill the dead."

"Look." Ryo picked up his naginata, glancing in Bakura's direction. "We're done, right?"

"Are you going to write her?"

Ryo sighed, closing his eyes. "I guess I have to, if she's worried."

"Then we're done," Bakura said.

Ryo opened his eyes and nodded, turning to Marik. "We have medicine. A lot of it, and we wanted to get it to someone who could make good use of it. Do you know of a vendor we can sell it to? Or even a doctor we can give it to? Tell me where to go, and I'll take Kek with me and you'll never see us again."

Marik's lavender eyes flicked towards his double. "Kek?"

"Yeah." Kek thumbed the pommel of his kukris. "Unlike you, Isis thought I was worth giving a name to."

The statement brought a thoughtful look to Marik's face.

Bakura sighed. "The merchants have all closed their shops. The only things people are trading right now are food and cards."

"About that." Ryo frowned. "What the hell's going on? This town's gone crazy, and there's so much Shadow Magic in the air that I half expect to see the sky turn purple and black each time someone plays another game."

"It wasn't like that a few weeks ago. People were obsessed, but . . ." Marik shook his head. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pant pocket. "I think this is partly to blame."

Ryo took the paper and unfolded it. "The Return to Battle City Tournament? Are you kidding me? No one's seen or heard from Seto Kaiba since the dead started eating people, and he magically appears now to play card games?"

Bakura rubbed his temples. "It's probably the Pharaoh's doing."

A single, dry laugh left Ryo's throat. "Blaming the Pharaoh for everything again?"

Bakura dropped his hands to scowl at Ryo. "The gods sent him back. Where else would he go for help?"

"It's brilliant, really." Marik shrugged. "We've been searching for information regarding the Millennium Tome since we've arrived in Domino – and it's been useless. This tournament will bring the enemy right to the Pharaoh in the same way the first Battle City was a trap created by Ishizu to lure me here."

Ryo shook his head. "How do you know for sure? He probably knows it's a trap."

"That doesn't matter. It didn't matter for me, and it won't matter for him. He has the Tome, and he knows how to use it. I'm sure he's confident that he'll win against anyone who challenges him. Besides . . ." a grave look shadowed Marik's face. "This is destiny again. Just like the first time."

Bakura almost dropped his platter. He set it on the ground, no longer hungry. "Marik, what are you talking about?"

Marik gave Bakura a sad smile. "I won this today." He extended a card towards Bakura, face down like any other trap.

Bakura walked up to Marik, noticing that both their hands shook as Bakura took the card and flipped it face-up. Bakura closed his eyes when he saw the Winged Dragon of Ra; he noticed Kek visibly shudder at the sight of the card. Before he could think, Bakura spun, and shoved the card in the smoldering coals sitting inside the grill. The card rested on top of the red embers, the colors of the golden dragon bright in the sunlight. The red and burning of the coals suited the card, made it look even more vibrant and alive. Not even an edge smoldered.

"Idiot," Marik cursed. "You know you can't destroy god."

"I don't care," Bakura's voice sounded like rust. "Marik." Bakura tried to grin, but his face felt broken. "Let's sit this one out."

"You of all people should know it's not that simple."

He did. Bakura dropped to the ground, crouching, hugging his knees, watching Ra sit unburned in the coals. "Marik . . . I don't care if I sound like a superstitious, old woman - or worse, your sister. I have a horrible feeling. It feels like . . . I'm watching my family burn all over again. I can't . . . I _won't_ . . ." he choked on his own words. He _felt_ six years old again, the only survivor of a dark tragedy.

A hand rested on Bakura's shoulder. He looked up to see Ryo kneeling beside him.

"Do you want the dice?" Bakura asked, trying to pull himself back together before he unraveled completely.

"The what?"

"The dice Amane made."

"You still have them?"

"They were in my pocket when I came back. They came back with me."

"Yes, please. I would like them. Anything I had . . . my old apartment burned down."

Bakura stood up. He plucked the Ra card from the ashes. The cardboard felt cool against his fingers as he held the card for Marik to take.

"Bakura," Marik spoke in a low voice. "It won't be the same because we're not the same."

But the terror clung to Bakura's chest, as hot, bright, and real as gold melted down with the ashes of ninety-nine sacrifices.

* * *

Marik wouldn't look at him and it made Kek want to scream. Kek wasn't sure why, but he wanted to be acknowledged. Not because he wanted acceptance from Marik, but because he wanted to be treated as real and whole instead of an unwanted, childhood memory.

"If you leave the medicine here," Marik spoke to Ryo. "I'll give it to Ishizu. She knows some things about healing because the tomb-keepers didn't have doctors."

"Yeah. I'll do that." Ryo paused. "Marik, are you going to sign up for the tournament?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because," Marik looked up at the sun crawling towards the horizon. "I feel responsible for all this. The man who stole the Tome wasn't a direct member of my clan, he was one of the keepers that guarded the Tablet, but he was still a tomb-keeper. The Spell Book needs to be returned to the Pharaoh and the traitor needs to be dealt with. I want to stay here and grow burdock and daikon in the gardens with Bakura, but I'm not as selfish as I used to be."

"Bakura's not playing?" Ryo asked. "I would have thought he'd be happy for one more chance to get vengeance."

Marik shook his head. "He's not the same, Ryo. He's been in Aaru. He's . . . you would like him now, I think."

A cute scowl knotted up Ryo's mouth. Kek stood and watched the conversation in silence. He was afraid to say much, afraid that arguing with his former host-ego might tempt him to wrap his hands around Marik's throat until neither one of them existed. Instead he stood in place, caressing the handles of his kukris and focusing on Ryo.

"I guess there's some good in him," Ryo said, "if Amane talks to him."

As if summoned by their conversation, the thief walked out of a roofless, brick building and walked towards them. He extended his hand to Ryo, two clay dice in his palm.

Ryo's face changed. A light glowed behind his eyes. "She made them ten-sided."

Bakura nodded, dropping the dice in Ryo's palm so that they both landed on zero.

Ryo traced the numbers carved into the dice with the tip of his pointer finger. "She used to watch me play. She was too young to get the rules, but she liked listening to the campaigns I wrote."

Bakura snorted, it wasn't quite a laugh, but it was close. "You'll hate playing against her. She's a rather cut-throat DM."

Ryo looked up, eyes wide. "You've played? Together?"

Bakura shrugged. His shadow stretched out tall and long in the opposite direction of the setting sun. "It wouldn't be Paradise if there weren't games."

"Still, it's strange to think of it . . ." Ryo noticed their shadows on the ground and frowned. "It's getting late. We better go." He slid the pack from his back, keeping a smaller one filled with personal belongings. Ryo glanced at Marik. "If Ishizu doesn't know what some of this stuff is, have her find me. I volunteered as a candy striper in college and learned a lot about different medicine."

"Where can she find you?" Marik asked.

Ryo pointed down. "In the streets, killing the dead. We're working on an obstacle course at the Kaiba Corp stadium, but while we build it there's plenty of corpses here to keep us busy."

"An obstacle course?" Marik asked with a tone that suggested that he didn't think Ryo was serious.

"Yes, an obstacle course. Gods, are you stupid?" Kek snapped, unable to stay quiet any longer. "It's what he just said."

"Why the hell are you building an obstacle course?" Marik snapped back, his face a mask of contemptuous bronze, and Kek wanted to shove it into the dying coals of Bakura's grill.

"Because it's more fun to kill them that way."

"It's really more about pacing," Ryo said. "The obstacles slow the dead down, so we can draw more to us and kill them all without being overrun. The fact that it's also really fun is a bonus."

"This isn't supposed to be fun," Marik hissed at Kek, although Ryo had spoken last.

Kek felt his jaw tense as he glared at Marik. "Yes it is. Anubis needs their hearts to weigh. I'm doing the gods a favor, so get off my ass, Marik."

"But you can't—"

"Marik," Ryo interrupted. "Stop it. You're not responsible for him, okay? He's not your alter-ego anymore, so stop telling him what to wear and how to feel."

Marik blinked, confused by Ryo's tone. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You're right, I don't even care."

"Let's go, Kek," Ryo said. "Probably best if we just keep you two apart."

Kek grunted in agreement. They turned to leave, and Kek jumped when he felt a hand that wasn't Ryo's touching his shoulder. He turned and saw Marik behind him. "What the fuck are you doing, Marik? Don't touch me."

"You don't have scars," Marik said, his voice quiet and his eyes huge.

Kek frowned. "No, I don't."

"That . . . doesn't seem fair."

"No, it's _not_ fair." Kek growled. "I went through the pain, too. I went through more than you because _you_ hid. I don't feel right without them, and it's not fair."

Marik's eyes flicked away. "I'd imagine you'd feel more free without them."

"Well I _don't_. It wasn't just your experience – it was mine, too. That can't be changed, even if you don't like it."

Marik took a step back, still avoiding Kek's gaze. "I'm sorry."

The words had an odd effect on Kek's anger – they made him feel like his emotions stumbled and fell into each other. He scratched his head and scowled. "It's not like it's your fault."

Marik exhaled, disagreeing without saying anything.

"It's not," Kek insisted. "You didn't _ask_ to be tortured. You didn't _want_ to create another personality, and you sure as hell didn't want that asshole you called father to come after you with a knife on _that day_ scaring the shit out of you and bringing me out _._ "

Marik narrowed his eyes, looking at Kek and frowning. "It's still my fault, though. Like you said during Battle City, 'we killed father'. Both of us. It's still my—"

"Shut-up!" Kek screamed. There were too many emotions again, all tied in knots around his soul. "Some people shouldn't live, and he was one of them."

"I don't expect you to understand." Marik's tone had gone deadpan, and it infuriated Kek more than an argument would have.

"But I do understand, more than you do."

"And what about Rishid? Did he deserve to die?"

"Deserve to die? No. But I wanted to exist and he threatened that." Kek shook his head. "I'm not going to apologize for the things I did as you . . . but if it helps you sleep at night, I can only kill the dead. Isis made sure of that."

Marik snorted, walking back to Bakura who stood with his arms crossed. Marik glanced over his shoulder as he walked away. "Guess as long as you're killing something it's good enough for you."

Kek spun away from Marik, sick of looking at his prissy double. What Marik didn't understand, and what Kek wouldn't explain, was that it wasn't the killing that made Kek happy – it was being alive. At first, he simply wanted to exist, but the more Kek lived, the more he enjoyed it. Unfortunately, he was Isis' scythe and couldn't stop slaying even if he wanted to. Kek needed the dead in order to live, because once they were gone he'd have to return to the gods.

Ryo reached out his hand for Kek to take. The sun made Ryo's entire body glow. "Come on, Kek. Let's go home. It'll be dark soon – nice night for a walk, right?"

Kek forced a smile on his face as they crossed the plank that would lead them back to the rest of Market Town. "A moonlit stroll? You're getting romantic on me, Ryo."

"I warned you not to let me fall in love, but you didn't listen."

Kek grabbed Ryo, kissing him in the middle of the thin, wooden plank between buildings that trembled a little as the wind blew. Kek could feel the tickle of cloth tease his legs as the wind made the skirt of his dress dance like red flames. Ryo grabbed Kek for balance, and Kek wished he could pause time so he could savor the current moment for just a little longer than eternity.

Ryo blushed when he pulled away for air. "What was that for?"

Kek shrugged. "Because I love you."

Kek hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Ryo the last condition Isis put on Kek's existence. He could only pray that the Pharaoh would take his time finding the Tome, so Kek had more time to live.


	20. Chapter 19

*****AN: Minor Citronshipping lemon.*****

* * *

Kaiba set up five distribution centers throughout Domino City to pass out locator cards and register everyone that wanted to enter the tournament. The Kame Game Shop – completely looted of Duel Monster cards, but otherwise unharmed – was one such distribution center. With the day almost over and all their locator cards handed out, Yugi and Anzu stood behind the counter, filing registration forms into boxes and preparing to leave.

"That was madness," Anzu wiped sweat off of her forehead. They had the door opened for a breeze, but it was still warm inside the shop without air conditioning.

Yugi nodded. "I'm really glad Seto had enough foresight to assign armed guards at each location. Otherwise, I think there would have been riots."

"I hope . . ." Anzu sighed. "I hope this works. Did you notice? Everyone we saw today looked sick."

"I did notice." He smiled for her sake. "But don't worry. We're going to fix this. It's not the first time we had to fight in a tournament to save the world, right?"

She snorted. "Let's get these boxes in the truck so we can go home. I'm beat."

"Okay. Where's Jonouchi? He should carry these instead of you."

"I can get it." Anzu jutted her chin out and grabbed one of the three cardboard boxes to carry past the armed guards and to the truck that would ship them back to Kaiba's mansion.

"Did someone say my name?" Jonouchi's voice called down the stairs.

"Where have you been?" Yugi asked.

Jo grinned. "Well, all the people were gone, so I decided to look upstairs to see if I could find anything."

Yugi sighed. "I already did, everything's gone."

"Not everything." Jonouchi flashed a pile of cards at Yugi.

"Where did you find those?"

"Under your bed, hidden in the box-spring, remember?"

Yugi's face beamed at the memory. "Our decks from college. We wanted to try new cards, so we decided to hide them, like a time capsule."

"Yup. We were going to dig them out after we got tired of our new decks, but we forgot about them."

"How'd you remember?"

Jonouchi shrugged. "I was just thinking . . . about old times, and then the memory hit me."

"Glad it did – there may be something we can use." Yugi lifted one of the remaining boxes. "Grab the last one, Jo, so we can get out of here."

They loaded the files, and were about to jump into the back of the truck when the squeal of tires cut through the air. The guards aimed rifles towards the noise until the familiar black Porsche appeared.

Mokuba stuck his head out the window. "Come on! We gotta go!"

"What's wrong?" Anzu shouted as they sprinted towards the car.

"Her water broke this afternoon!" Mokuba cheered. "The labor seems to be getting serious now. Thought you'd want a faster ride."

"Hell yeah we do!" Jonouchi jumped through the open, passenger side window without opening the door.

Anzu rolled her eyes, using the door properly as she sat in the backseat. "You guys have no idea how labor works, do you?"

"Of course not. I'm a dude."

"Sorry to tell you Jono, but it can take an a few hours before the baby's actually here."

"Maybe, but why take chances?" Mokuba laughed as he shifted gears and pushed them all back into their seats as he drove forward.

"Mokuba!" Yugi shouted. "You can't drive this fast with Anzu in the car!"

"Hey!" Anzu protested.

Jonouchi rolled his eyes. "Oh here we go. Another feminist war."

"Shut-up, Jo, and Yugi, you are _not_ going to start treating me like a flower."

"I can't help it. I mean, of course I'm going to worry more now."

"Why?" Mokuba's eyes shot up to the rearview mirror for a second to look at Yugi before darting back to the road. "Are you sick, Anzu?"

"No."

"Then why is Yugi worried?"

They glanced at each other. Anzu shrugged, giving Yugi the call. He scratched the back of his head. "Well . . . we weren't going to say anything until later, but . . ."

"But what?" Jonouchi leaned to the side in order to look at both Yugi and Anzu in the backseat.

Anzu put a hand on her belly. "We sorta thought that maybe your niece or nephew needed a friend."

Mokuba's eyes jerked back to the rear view mirror, this time staring at Anzu. "Wait, does that mean –"

Anzu smiled and nodded her head.

"All right!" Jonouchi cheered. He and Mokuba hi-fived each other.

Yugi thumped the back of Mokuba's seat. "Keep both your hands on the steering wheel!"

"Congratulations!" Mokuba ignored Yugi's advice, instead shifting into the next gear so they could go a little faster.

* * *

Jonouchi wrung his hands into nervous knots. He watched Honda pace back and forth in front of the door. On the other side, Shizuka screamed while doctors and nurses tended to her. Anzu and Mai were with her for moral support, but Anzu insisted that all the males wait in the hallway.

Jonouchi stared at the rug, a scatter of golden paisleys floating in a maroon sea. Another scream from his sister made Jonouchi's hands clench into fists. "If she doesn't stop screaming like that, I'm going in there and clocking the doctor."

"Jo, she's having a baby," Honda muttered as he continued to pace.

Jonouchi released a frustrated growl, but stayed quiet. Another scream made Jonouchi wince, but afterward, a smaller, shrilling crying reached their ears, and Jonouchi jumped to his feet. Honda stopped pacing. He stared at the door and waited.

The door swung open and Anzu peeked out with a bright smile on her face. She gestured for Honda to enter the room. "Come and meet your son, Daddy."

Honda's face broken into a proud grin as he disappeared into the room.

"Yes!" Jonouchi punched the air in excitement. "I knew it'd be a boy! I'll teach him to catch, and play Duel Monsters, and I'll take him to his first strip club."

Yugi laughed. "All the strippers are zombies now."

"By the time he's eighteen, things will be fixed enough for there to be strip clubs," Jonouchi insisted. Thinking about his new nephew in the next room made Jonouchi want to help Atem retrieve the Tome even more than before. He'd beat the tar out of the asshole who caused the plague and then they could work on putting things back in order.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jonouchi noticed a quiet form gliding, rather than walking, down the hallway. When Jonouchi looked up, he realized it was Atem. Yugi's former other half grinned at them, brandishing a box in both his hands. "I convinced Seto to let me have these for the occasion."

He opened the box and displayed a dozen cigars.

"Hell yeah." Jonouchi snatched one out of the box.

Seto's voice echoed down the hall. "Someone cut and light that for him because I swear if I see that fool just shove the tip straight into the flame I'll end him for ruining one of my cigars."

"Fuck you, Kaiba!" Jonouchi shouted.

Atem chuckled. "Let me help, Jonouchi."

It still pissed him off, but since it was Atem, Jonouchi let it go. He looked at Yugi, "We'll have to save the extras for when Anzu has her baby."

Atem and Seto both raised eyebrows at the news. "Anzu's pregnant?" Atem asked.

Yugi's cheeks grew coral. "Yeah, we weren't going to say anything until after Shizuka had her baby, but we found out a few weeks ago that she was."

"Congratulations." Atem patted Yugi on the back.

The door opened again, and this time both Mai and Anzu stepped into the hall.

"Thank the gods that's over with. That was waaay too much biology for me for one day."

Anzu sighed. "How can you say that, Mai? That was beautiful."

Mai snorted, stealing the cigar from Jonouchi's mouth and puffing on it.

"What's the big idea?" He scowled at her.

He tried to steal it back, but Mai took a calculated step backwards. "Can't take the cigar into the delivery room." Mai grinned. "I'll hold it for you while you go say hi to your nephew."

* * *

Marik knew he dug his nails too deep into Bakura's back. He could hear the way Bakura growled with a mix of pain and anger, pleasure and lust, each time Marik scored his nails into Bakura's nut-brown skin, but Marik couldn't help it.

During the last few weeks, ever since Marik brought home the Winged Dragon Card, Bakura started taking a more active role in bed. Each time that Bakura lead, their lovemaking ended up hard and desperate, almost feral – as if each time could be the last chance they'd ever have together and Bakura used sheer force of movement to deny the possibility.

And each time Bakura drove into Marik with unrelenting passion, the former tomb-keeper couldn't hold himself back, biting and clawing at Bakura until he drew blood and pulled dark blue-violet welts onto the surface of Bakura's skin.

They came at the same time, screaming each others' names. Bakura kissed Marik's left temple, and then his right temple while Marik went over the bruises on Bakura's collarbone with gentler kisses.

"I told you, Bakura," Marik whispered. "It won't be the same this time because we're not the same."

"I don't trust fate." Bakura grabbed Marik's wrist and dragged his lips against the sensitive flesh.

"I'll take a break." He already had almost all the locator cards he needed. "I mean, it's not like I'm playing to win. I'm just holding onto Ra until I see the Pharaoh. Then I can forfeit my game again and give him the damn card like I did last time."

Bakura sank next to Marik, using Marik's shoulder as a pillow. "If it were simply your life on the line I wouldn't be so worried. I know what happens to the dead and it's nothing to mourn, but this shit—" He sprang up and swiped Marik's deck of cards off of the nightstand.

The brightly colored slips of paper fluttered down like leaves caught in a dust-devil, but the Winged Dragon of Ra blew towards them, landing on Marik's sweat-damp chest.

Bakura gritted his teeth when he saw what happened. "The Shadows are worse than death."

And Marik knew that Bakura spoke from experience. He plucked the card off of his chest and set it to the side, leaving the other cards on the floor. "I'm not worried."

"You weren't worried last time either – we still ended up in the Shadows."

"And now we're fine."

Bakura crossed his arms over his chest and snorted. Marik couldn't help but laugh. He knew the situation wasn't casual, but Bakura looked cute when he pouted. Marik looked up at the sky. They didn't have a roof yet – Bakura was being obstinate about telling Marik _why_ he hadn't added it yet, but Marik didn't mind because the summer weather made sleeping straight beneath the sky pleasant.

He elbowed Bakura. "Let's not build a roof. We can leave it like this. It never feels dark without a ceiling."

"What about when it rains?"

Marik smirked. "You can summon Diabound and have him lay over everything." It wasn't a large place. A common room with a hearth for cooking and heat in the winter, and a bedroom. They had a latrine, but it was separate from the main building. Miyu ate meals with them and trained with Bakura throughout the day, but stayed in her own place at night, and that suited everyone.

"You'll want a roof when it's winter."

"Too bad roofs can't be invisible." Marik sighed, thinking out loud. Bakura started laughing, Marik scowled at him. "Stop laughing at me, you asshole. I—"

Marik didn't have the chance to finish his sentence. Bakura chose that moment to roll over, grab Marik's face, and kiss him silent.

* * *

 _Dear Amane,_

 _I sent thirty-seven people to the Fields today, and Kek did the same for one-hundred and seven people. I hope they all made it through the Duat safely._

 _Our current safe-house is halfway between Market Town and the Kaiba Corp Stadium. We alternate days between building traps, and culling the undead – who are still gathering around Market Town no matter how many we send Home and burn. Kek is excited about the fire pits in our obstacle pits. I told him to wait until I was taking a break from the fighting to light them. I'm not as enthused as him about the idea of flaming zombies surrounding me._

 _Sorry if this all sounds morbid. The world's kinda morbid now – but it's beautiful, too! This summer has been mild, and the roses and hydrangeas are everywhere. I found some purple hydrangea that matched Kek's eyes, so I braided them into his hair. It was nice . . . that day was nice. It's been a long time since I could just sit outside in the grass without worrying about getting attacked. I got sunburned, but I didn't mind. It was worth it. I think one hundred grasshoppers jumped on us – Kek caught a bunch and we fried them for dinner. It tasted better that it sounds, I promise._

 _I can't wait until next spring when the red tsubaki bloom. I think Kek will really like those – they'll remind him of blood. He likes the roses. He says they remind him of me – pretty, but you have to watch the thorns. Every morning when I wake up, there's a bundle of roses next to my pillow. (Yeah, I'm just as bad as ever about waking up late. Kek always has breakfast ready by the time I'm up.)_

 _I'll write another letter soon. I don't want you sending Bakura after me again. I mean, he seems a lot different from before, but I think the less Kek sees of Marik the better. He's seemed a little down ever since that day, but he won't talk about it. It must be hard for him, to think about it._

 _Anyway, don't worry about me because I'm as good as someone can be after the end of the world. Tell mom and dad that I miss them._

 _~Love, Ryo._

* * *

"You're open!" Bakura shouted.

Miyu tried to block, but Bakura moved in quick as wind, using wooden daggers to deliver three mock slashes.

"You're dead. You're dead. You're disabled. I told you to keep your guard up."

"Fuck!" Miyu swore, gripping her wooden daggers a little tighter. She wrapped the handles with strips of cloth, but she still had a splinter in the palm of her left hand. Miyu dug at it with her teeth before spitting it out and glaring at her mentor. "Again."

Bakura nodded, trying not to grin at her. "Guard up. Watch my eyes – damn-it, Miyu, what have I told you about footing."

"God dammit." She corrected her stance, turning sideways to reduce Bakura's target.

"Better." Bakura slashed at her, but she blocked the attack and moved out of the way.

She knew Tiamat like a second self. After they weeded and watered the garden, Bakura made her meditate every morning to hone the power of her _ka_. In the afternoons they sparred, and in the evening he made her study out of school books he filched from an old school building. She thought it was retarded to learn algebra in the middle of the zombie apocalypse – at least the damn garden fed them and the knife fighting taught her to protect herself, but every time she tried to get it through his thick skull that she didn't need to read Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_ , he gave her a twenty minute lecture that always bored her so much that she'd start reading the damn book just to ignore his nagging.

The sun burned down on the top of their heads. Miyu wondered how dark haired people managed the heat. At least her white hair reflected most of the light away from her scalp, but her skin had grown dusky from all the outside training instead of lazing around under awnings and inside her hut. Miyu blinked sweat out of her eyes, knowing if she turned her gaze from Bakura for even half a second to wipe her eyes dry, that the bastard would whack the back of her head with the flat of his wooden dagger and yell at her about taking her eyes off of her opponent.

She saw Marik appear, and that meant it was time for lunch. "Finally!" Miyu cheered, sheathing her training daggers in her belt and walking towards Marik.

Bakura grabbed her hair and pressed wood to her throat. "You don't walk away from the middle of a battle for a lunch break, Miyu."

"Gimme a break, Bakura! I'm hungry."

He tched and put his daggers away, looking up at Marik. "Did you bring the extra?"

Marik pulled a sack out of his backpack. "Yeah, but why do you need two lunches each?"

"Not for us." He took the white sack out of Marik's hands and handed it to Miyu. "You need field practice. Go take this street level and find those two morons from the other day."

"This is bullshit." Miyu grabbed the sack. "You're just trying to ditch me so you can get smoochy."

Bakura shrugged. "If you're afraid to go alone, just ask and we'll go with you."

Miyu growled. She knew he was playing her, but her pride wouldn't let the comment slide. "You're pissing me off today."

Bakura chuckled. "You're pissed because you didn't keep your guard up. You always get pissed when you make a mistake, but I told you – getting angry won't help you fight."

"Whatever." Miyu snatched her lunch with the other two and stormed off, making sure she picked up her hat from where she'd left it before she went to the street below.

She wasn't sure why she always listened to Bakura when he turned her into an errand boy. She didn't really _need_ him to train her anymore – and she was a better thief than him. They had a contest and she won. He whined that he was a tomb robber and not a pick-pocket, but a loss was a loss.

It was more trouble than it was worth, really. All the stupid weed eating, and the blisters on her feet and hands, and waking up before dawn, and passing out every night because she was so tired from all the work she did. It was stupid. At least, that's what she told herself. Still, no matter how much she slapped at his hands whenever he messed up her hair, maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe she listened to Bakura because he was the only adult that ever gave a damn – even before the zombies.

* * *

 *****Dadkura!*****


	21. Chapter 20

*****Seto Kaiba – invents equipment that will revolutionize the world by providing free, eco-friendly energy. Does it ~not~ out of morality or compassion, but because he wants people to get back to work. LOL*****

* * *

"Hey! Why are you damn cowards running away!" Kek chased after the dead, slashing through them as they tried to escape.

"Whoa, hello eye-candy. Where's your dress?"

Kek spun around and saw the little thief standing in the street with Ryo's hat pulled down on her head and a white leviathan coiled around her like a protective aura. "What's the big idea? You scared them away with your damn _ka_."

"Well yeah." She smirked, and the look reminded Kek of the Spirit of the Ring. "That was the point. I'm practicing."

Kek turned over his shoulder, shouting. "Ryo! This one's alive! How 'bout you kill it?"

A moment later Ryo appeared from the corner of the building. Unlike Kek who fought in boxers, Ryo still insisted on wearing old, already stained clothes when he fought.

"What are you talking about?" He noticed Miyu. "Oh . . . hello?"

She raised a bag and then lowered it. "Your fairy godmother wanted me to bring you lunch."

Ryo glanced at Kek. "You think he put razor blades in it?"

"Probably."

The girl gave them a funny look. "Actually, he asked Marik to make it."

"Poison in that case," Kek corrected. "Razors would be too messy for him."

The girl laughed. "You give those two way too much credit."

Marik did it once, when they were fifteen and both Marik. Several of their associates skimmed money used to operate the Ghouls, so Marik invited them to dinner. Marik didn't even hide it in the food. He used the Rod to force the men to sit down and drink it themselves – keeping their minds fully aware of what was happening the entire time, but unable to stop themselves.

Ryo took the bag, thanking the girl. Inside were four packets wrapped in bamboo leaves. They housed a sort of steamed dumpling filled with lentils and vegetables. They ate as they stood.

"What's her name?" Ryo asked, looking at the serpent wrapped around the child.

"Tiamat."

"How did you learn to summon your _ka_?"

"Bakura, of course. Can't you summon yours? You have white hair. He said people with white hair have souls like gods."

Ryo snorted. " _Bakura_ would have never taught me anything that would give me the power of a god."

"Why not?"

"Because I would have used it against him."

The girl looked surprised. She pulled another lunch from her messenger bag and plopped down in the grass next to the blood-slick sidewalk. She filled her mouth with as much dumpling as possible before asking. "Why? Bakura acts like an asshole, but he's really chill beneath all that."

Ryo smiled. "Maybe you should ask him?"

Miyu rolled her peculiar, golden-green eyes. "He just rambles about helping a dark god destroy the world. Was he a writer or something before the zombies? I can never get a straight answer out of him."

Ryo looked at Kek. Kek shrugged. Ryo sighed and turned back to Miyu. "He's not lying."

"I'm not a kid. There's no way I'm going to believe he was a tomb-robber from ancient Egypt."

Kek snorted. "Kid, you have a glowing dragon wrapped around you."

* * *

Atem grinned. "I have three. How many locator cards do you have?"

They lay in his bed, naked other than the goose-down comforter covering their bodies. If the others noticed that Atem slept in Seto's room, they never mentioned it.

Seto scowled. "Two, but it doesn't matter. Our competition doesn't start until the finals when I'll face you."

Atem shifted to his side so he could trace a dark finger across Seto's pale chest. "Looking forward to beating you again."

"You're too cocky. Remember, you're not undefeated anymore – Yugi beat you."

"I can still win against you." Atem licked his lips. "You know, even Jonouchi and Yugi have three locator cards already."

"The three of you don't have other obligations. I arranged this tournament for you, but it's only a prologue to my original plans. My primary objective is still manufacturing enough generators to first power Domino City, then Japan, and eventually produce them on a global scale. Destroying the dead is a start, but if the world is ever going to recover, people need to stop scavenging like rats and go back to being productive."

Atem laughed. "Doesn't your brain ever get tired?"

"Only in a crowd." The words were soft, not a whisper, but close to one. His sharp blue eyes darted over Atem's face. "Perhaps my brain doesn't think too much, but rather the rest of you don't think enough."

Atem shrugged against the sheets. "I think, but I'm not an engineer. I can't just build something to fix my problems for me."

"Utilize the resources available to you. You're charismatic. If you want something manufactured, convince engineers to design it for you and then mechanics to build it."

Atem used the pad of his thumb to trace along Seto's bottom lip. "That's why I have you, right?"

Seto shifted until he lay on top of Atem, one arm on each side of his motley-colored spikes as Seto propped himself up straight. "You're hopeless."

Atem winked. "Laying on top of me like this isn't really encouraging me to change."

* * *

Marik's shoulders hurt, and so did his back as he walked home. He felt sick to his stomach from the Shadow Magic affecting the town. The fifth locator card rested in his pocket along with his deck. Marik scoffed when he realized the locator cards pointed back to the Kaiba Corp Stadium; he'd expected something more original.

The former tomb-keeper exhaled in relief when he saw the bridge that would carry him from the brunt of Market Town to their own little island slightly away from the rest of it. Bright, silvery clouds crowded in the sky, but the horizon was thick and dark with sable storm clouds. They needed the rain to fill the cisterns, but Marik sighed when he realized clouds would mean Bakura would build a roof on their little cottage-style house after all.

As if summoned by Marik's thoughts, Bakura appeared to meet Marik at the end of the bridge. A smile came unbidden to Marik's face at the sight of Bakura. The tension slipped away from Marik's back and the nauseous feeling in Marik's stomach eased and settled.

The wind blew Bakura's hair in and around his face. He hadn't cut it since resurrecting and the white locks stretched below his shoulders again. Marik almost ran to Bakura for want of sliding his fingers through Bakura's mess of wild, white locks. When they reached each other, their fingers went straight into each other's hair and they kissed with opened mouths.

Bakura started laughing, not the manic laugh that he often used for others. It was a calmer, quieter laughter that Marik only ever heard when they were alone together.

Marik raised an eyebrow. "You look happy. Happy is a suspicious look for you. What's up?"

"I finished the roof today."

Marik sighed. "I guess that's good. It's going to rain."

Bakura grabbed Marik's hand and half dragged him to their house. "Come and look at it."

Marik pulled his hand away before they reached the door. "Do you have a lantern? Or candle? O-or something that will—"

Bakura laughed again. "Close your eyes."

Marik clenched his teeth together, taking a moment to calm down enough to answer. "Bakura, you know I don't—"

"Trust me."

Looking at Bakura's smile and his bright gray eyes tinged with pale, silvery-lavender, Marik couldn't deny him. The former tomb-keeper closed his own eyes, squeezing Bakura's hands painful-tight as Bakura lead them inside. Marik expected a shift from dark to darker behind his lids as he stepped inside, but he never noticed a big change. They walked into the center of the main room before Bakura stopped.

"Okay – open your eyes."

Marik did, blinking because the room was still almost sun-behind-cloud bright. He looked up and noticed large, broad squares of double-paned glass locked together in white frames. Marik's mouth dropped, eyes still blinking. "How . . . how did you manage this?"

Bakura grinned. "I'm a genius – that's how. The bedroom looks the same – only there's a section that retracts."

Marik pulled his eyes away from the glass-filtered sky to look back at Bakura. "Are you fucking serious?"

Bakura wasn't prone to blushing, but an inappropriate hint of rosy-pink graced the upper contours of his cheeks. "I want you to see the stars every night when you fall asleep in my arms, and I want the sun to wake you up every morning."

Marik slammed Bakura against the brick wall. He lifted Bakura up, and the thief wrapped his jean-clad legs around Marik's back. He was heavy, more muscular than what he'd been in Ryo's body, but Marik refused to put him down. He kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him until they couldn't breathe, and then Marik dropped down to Bakura's neck, enjoying each soft curve of skin and taunt band of muscle.

* * *

Yugi looked up at the sky. The cloud-cover hovered thick above them, but sun still kept the sky bright despite the clouds. It wouldn't last. A storm wall grew in the East, small flashes of gold and white flickered between folds of charcoal-dark clouds.

"Bam!" Jonouchi stepped up behind Yugi and smacked his shoulder with a locator card. "This makes five!"

Yugi smiled. "Did you look at them yet?"

Jonouchi groaned. "Yeah. I don't believe that jerk put the second tournament in the same damn place as last time."

"I thought it was funny."

"He's just being lazy."

"Actually." Seto's voice cut into their conversation. "I was being practical. We don't have the means to manufacture new cards, but we did have the old ones in storage, so I recycled them."

"It's still boring." Jonouchi crossed his arms over his chest, insistent with his opinion.

"Tell you what, Katsuya, next time you can sponsor the tournament and then you can choose any location you want."

Atem joined them. He smirked at Seto. "Did you get your fifth card, Seto? Or do I have to win another one to give to you?"

Seto snorted in response.

"Why are you even dueling?" Jonouchi asked. "You already know the location of the tournament."

"Because it's part of the rules, and if I'm not good enough to acquire five locator cards from the losers in this city, then I'm not worth my own tournament."

Jonouchi rolled his eyes. "Can we just go? Market Town gives me the creeps these days."

Yugi frowned because Jonouchi was right. The once thriving, lively town looked morose and half-abandoned. Yugi didn't have to wear his hoodie anymore, which was good, but Yugi would tolerate getting harassed by duel requests if that meant the stink of Shadow Magic didn't cling to the town in the same way the smell of decay clung to the streets below.

"I can't wait until this is over." Yugi closed his eyes, trying to imagine the town the way it looked a few months ago.

"My friend, I've been looking for you."

Yugi blinked his eyes opened and turned to see Shonin. Dark circles lined his eyes and his skin hung around his face. He looked twenty pounds lighter since the day Yugi purchased three-lives worth of weapons with his Winged Dragon of Ra card.

"Is something wrong?" Yugi asked.

"I have some information you wanted. A certain person's name."

Yugi's eyes widened. "Really? Will you tell me?"

Shonin held out his hand.

Yugi sighed, but he knew the game. Digging through his cards, he found a Swords of Revealing Light and placed it in Shonin's opened palm.

"He's called Kamenwati, and you'll meet him during the finals. He came here. Played five games, and left with five locator cards."

Yugi pursed his lips. He hadn't known the last time he spoke with Shonin, but now Yugi was sure that Kamenwati was the man they were looking for.

"Since you seem interested in Egyptian visitors . . ." Shonin tucked the first card in his pocket and gave Yugi a greedy look. "I can tell you about another group that's settled into Market Town – for the right price, of course."

"I bet I have the right price." Seto stepped up to Shonin, his height made him all but loom over the merchant. "I'm sure enough punches to the gut will get the information out of you."

Yugi raised his hand. "Seto, I got this."

Seto snorted. "I'm sick of you pawning off your cards to scum like this. You should have never given up the gods."

Yugi turned to Atem. His other self sighed and rested a hand on Seto's shoulder, leading the angry executive a few steps away from Shonin. Meanwhile, Yugi forfeited a Monster Reborn to get Shonin to talk.

"There's four of them, three men and a woman. One has scars on his face, but they're different than Kamenwati's. He lives with the woman in the center of town. The other two live just outside of Market Town. Both extraordinary looking individuals. The second male doesn't duel so no one knows much about him, but you'll know him if you see him. He has hair like a swan's neck, pure white."

Yugi frown. "And the last man?"

Shonin held out his hand.

"You stupid bastard!" Jonouchi shouted. "Just freaking tell him."

"It's fine, Jo." Yugi narrowed his eyes at Shonin. "Tell me first and I'll decide what the information is worth or if you're just trying to fish me."

"My friend, don't you trust me?"

"Shut-up and tell me, or I'll let Kaiba call some of his armed guards to drag you to the streets – and I promise you, they are in no short supply of ammo."

Shonin skulked, crossing his arms over his chest. "The last male is quite exotic, eyes like yours only pale, hair the color of the sun. Everyone swears on their cards that he'll win this tournament – he's probably better than you, my friend. He's never lost a single game since he's arrived."

"Not an impressive feat in this rat's nest," Seto muttered, still standing with Atem's hand on his shoulder.

"Seto," Yugi hissed. He was pretty sure who at least three of the four Egyptians were, but he wanted to make sure. "Do you know their names?"

"Only the last – Marik Ishtar."

Yugi shoved an Artifact Sanctum into Shonin's hand and turned to leave. "Where does he live?"

Shonin chuckled. "Go straight. Last house you'll see. It's been a pleasure, my friend."

Yugi didn't wait for Shonin to leave, he marched in the direction Shonin pointed, leaving the business area of town and heading towards the edge of town where food stands and craft-sellers littered the roof-tops.

"I can't believe you gave up three cards to that scum." Seto followed close behind Yugi.

"We're not having this conversation." Yugi shot a stern glance at Seto's direction, but he couldn't hold it. His face returned to the amiable, happy expression he usually wore. "Besides, this is really good news. If it's Marik, then the first two are probably Rishid and Ishizu. I bet they're here to help us." Yugi smiled. "I'm actually excited to see Marik again. We lost touch after the Ceremonial Duel."

"Yeah, but who's the fourth guy?" Jonouchi asked.

Yugi shrugged. "I'm not sure. Probably someone we don't know."

Atem narrow his eyes, staring ahead of them. "Yeah, but white hair . . ."

"Ryo has white hair and he's our friend," Yugi said quickly, knowing where Atem's mind would go, but that was impossible . . . Ryo's other half should have been banished with the Millennium Items.

The shops and restaurants disappeared and small hovels replaced them. More children ran through the streets, all scrappy and in torn clothing. A few elderly sat in their doorways, escaping the inside heat and enjoying the breeze as the oncoming storm blew ozone and dust in the air. Yugi looked around. The area was poor and meager, but it _felt_ better. The Shadow Magic polluting the rest of the city didn't reach the outskirts, and Yugi noticed a lot of new patches on roofs and windows, as if someone had been working hard on repairing the humble buildings.

They stopped in front of a long ramp that lead up to a taller building. Yugi turned to the others. "Let me go and check to see if he's home. If he is, we can go and find Ishizu and Rishid too and let them know about our plans."

Seto rested his hands on his hips. "Just make it quick. I'm sick of this cesspool."

"I hate to admit it." Atem frowned. "But Seto's right, this town is depressing."

"It used to be a good town," Yugi said, feeling obligated to apologize for some reason. "And I think as soon as we get the Tome back it'll be a good town again. We just need to do our part."

"Yugi's right." Jonouchi nodded.

"Thanks, Jo." Yugi jogged across the plank.

It shook under his feet a little, and he had to extend his hands on either side to feel balanced. Yugi blinked when he reached the other rooftop. It belonged to a good-sized apartment complex, but it was easy to forget that a building stood below Yugi's feet as he looked around. A brick cottage sat in the back corner of the space. It had a chimney and actual glass windows instead of make-do shutters. A brick walkway extended from the home to the bridge behind Yugi, and Yugi used it to walk to the house. Most the other surface area was sectioned off into an enormous garden.

Yugi stopped a moment to admire the row upon row of tomatoes, peppers, radishes, carrots, daikon, burdock, leeks, lettuce, and more garlic than Yugi had ever seen before. It put Anzu's old garden at The Place to shame. Yugi wondered what Marik did with all the extra food. The garden could feed dozens of people, not only four.

Yugi noticed the door wide open. "Hello?" Yugi called in a timid voice. "Marik?"

He didn't hear an answer, so he stepped inside. The first thing that caught Yugi's attention was the glass ceiling. He thought of fairy tales when he saw it. The second thing that caught Yugi's attention was the sight of two figures pressed against one of the brick walls. The light caught a mop of golden hair pulled back into a ponytail that could only belong to Marik, and the second person froze Yugi in place.

He only recognized him from the Egyptian RPG they'd been stuck in – the thief with white hair and a scar on his cheek – but while the thief in the game had been manic and in a revenge-fueled frenzy, the person pinned against the wall by Marik looked enraptured with his eyes closed and his mouth opened as he cooed little, pleased noises into Marik's ear. It was such a drastic difference, that Yugi had trouble believing what he saw.

That's when it fully sank into Yugi's shocked brain that he was interrupting.

"I'm sorry!" Yugi shut his eyes and ran back out of the building.

He stumbled, running blind like a fool, and tumbled against the brick of the walkway. Yugi hissed and held his left hand. He'd scraped some of the skin off the palm when he caught himself falling.

"Yugi?"

Yugi turned around to see Marik standing in the doorway looking flushed and confused.

"I'm so sorry." Yugi stared at his hand so he didn't have to look at Marik. "I heard you were living here, and in the tournament, so I decided to visit. And, and the door was open."

"We've been trying to help find the Tome." Marik reached forward to help Yugi to his feet, talking as if Yugi hadn't just busted in on a private moment. "I'm afraid we haven't been very helpful. By the way, the tournament was a brilliant idea."

"That was Kaiba's idea." Yugi brushed dust from his clothes and hair. "Even with so many people . . . well, gone, it still would be hard to find just one person with so many empty buildings to hide in."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it. That's why we settled here. We figured more people meant more information we could gather."

Yugi nodded.

Marik gestured towards the bridge. "I should show you where Ishizu and Rishid are staying. She's been wanting to see you. Is the Pharaoh with you? She'd like to say hello to him as well."

"Y-yeah. Him, Seto, and Jonouchi, I figured we should all meet and catch up on plans – I figured you were here to help."

Marik nodded. "We are."

"So, so, um, d-did the gods bring . . . _him_ back, too?" Yugi asked, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Marik snorted. "Of course not. The gods aren't stupid enough to bring that asshole back." A smile broke on Marik's face. Yugi couldn't remember ever seeing Marik look so happy. "He tricked them."

Yugi's eyes skirted towards the still-open doorway. "W-well, he's not cackling or chasing me with a knife. That's good, right?"

Marik's face dropped to a neutral expression. "He wants nothing to do with you, I promise."

Yugi exhaled. "No offense, but that's kind of a relief. Still . . . if you guys are busy, uh, I could come back tomorrow?"

"Ishizu would never forgive me if I didn't show you to her place." He waved with a dismissive gesture of his hand. "Besides, it's fine. Let's go."

Yugi smiled. "Okay – and I'm glad you're okay. Y'know, with the dead killing so many. It's good to see another friend."

"It was close. We were overrun at the pier . . . actually, I only made it this far because of Bakura."

"Really?" Yugi asked as they started walking down the brick path.

"Yeah," Marik answered.

Before they could walk further, a shriek pierced the air, followed by another.

Marik started running. "Miyu!"

Before he could take three steps, Bakura appeared like a white-maned horse galloping past Marik. Yugi tried to chase behind them but couldn't keep up. Bakura ignored the bridge, leaping into the air. He summoned his _ka_ to act as a platform that enabled him to jump to the other side before Marik even crossed a quarter of the bridge.

Yugi stumbled. He'd seen the creature a little during their final RPG when Yugi discovered Atem's name, but seeing something in a magical game, and seeing it meters away from you, were completely different experiences.

A scream of _let go, asshole_ , and another one of _don't you touch her,_ forced Yugi to move again.


	22. Chapter 21

When he noticed the child reach into his pocket, Atem grabbed the girl's shoulder. He merely wanted his pen back, but the child let out a shriek that made his ears ring.

"Calm down, I won't hurt you."

She shrieked again, louder than before. Atem couldn't see much of the child's face, a black fedora with a red band hid her from the nose up.

"It's okay, calm down."

She struggled, but when she couldn't get away she shouted, "Let go, asshole!"

Atem frowned, not expecting the crude language from a little girl.

"Don't you touch her!" Another voice growled.

Atem turned to match the voice with a face, but only saw a brown fist rocketing towards him. A numb moment of shock stunned Atem before the pain burst from every nerve in his nose. He sprawled backwards, letting go of the child and falling on the ground. Then everything happened at once. Jonouchi jumped on the man's back and was thrown. Seto stood between Atem and the man, and was pushed aside to the ground.

It wasn't until then that Atem realized it was Bakura – the thief Bakura, and not Yugi's friend. The thief slammed his knees into the ground on either side of Atem, cocking back his fist and smashing knuckle against cartilage with each word he roared. "Never! Touch! Her! Again!"

Atem's world became a repetition of pain and blood. His vision clouded into crimson, and it happened too fast for him to reach for his sword.

Then a splash of white invaded Atem's crimson-tainted vision. The child-thief leapt between Atem and Bakura, trying to block the blows, her hat somehow knocked aside in the chaos.

"Bakura stop! Bakura stop!"

Atem tried to tell her to run away, but his lips felt too swollen to move them.

"Move!" Bakura snarled at the girl. He didn't strike her, keeping his eyes savagely trained on Atem instead.

"Please, sensei, stop it!" The girl screamed. She had her back to Atem, but he heard the sobs and saw her frail shoulders shake. "It was my fault. I'm sorry, just stop it."

Bakura dropped his fists, a lost expression on his face. The anger drained from his features, leaving him pale and fevered looking. He sat back, slightly away from Atem and stared at his swollen, bleeding knuckles as if he wasn't sure how he'd split them open. The girl crawled into Bakura's lap, crying against his chest. He blinked at her, reaching out and patting her on the back to comfort her.

Then Yugi and Seto both grabbed Atem's face, trying to assess Atem's wounds.

"Are you okay?" Yugi asked, his eyes two enormous disks.

Atem nodded.

Out of the corner of his eye, Atem saw Jonouchi lunge for Bakura, but then Marik appeared. Marik caught Jonouchi's wrist and twisted Jo's arm behind his back. Jonouchi dropped to his knees and shouted.

"Let's not escalate this further, agreed?" Marik glared down at Jonouchi and the purple of his gaze held a terrifying edge, reminding Atem of the villain they once fought.

"But he attacked Atem!" Jonouchi growled. The pain in his arm didn't mute his anger in the slightest.

"I'm not justifying what he did, but there's no point in starting more fighting, is there?"

Jonouchi growled, his teeth clenched. "Fine. Let go and I'll back off."

Marik released his hold and knelt beside the two thieves. He pet the girl's hair as she cried, looking at Bakura. "She okay?"

An odd smile slipped across Bakura's face as he looked down at the tuft of white hair. "Yeah, she was just pulling her usual shit and had the misfortune of picking the wrong mark."

His mouth still hurt, but Atem forced several stunted words out. "She stole from me."

She threw the silver pen at Atem. He flinched when the implement bounced near his feet.

"Take it back! I don't want it anymore!"

Bakura frowned. "Is that all she filched? A pen?"

"I wasn't going to hurt her. I just wanted to ask for it back."

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" Bakura shouted. "It's just a pen!"

"It's the fact that she stole!" Atem retorted, wincing at the pain his words caused.

"Yeah! Shut your mouth, Bakura!" Jonouchi screamed. "She's a thief."

"She's eleven! Let her have the damn pen. Fuck!" He stood up, holding the child against his side and leading her away. "Come on, Miyu. I'll find you a whole damn box of pens."

"I just wanted to draw Tiamat." She bent down for her hat before going back to Bakura's side, rubbing at her eyes. "If I knew it was going to cause all this trouble, I would have fucking found a piece of chalk."

Bakura glanced back over his shoulder at Marik. "Get rid of these guys, okay?"

Marik nodded. "Your hand better be bandaged by the time I get home."

"Don't tell me what to do." Bakura grinned as he walked away.

* * *

Marik sighed, rubbing his temples. "Ishizu has aspirin and first aid supplies. We should go see her."

"That's a good idea," Yugi agreed as he stood up.

Seto helped Atem to his feet, and Marik noticed how the leader of Kaiba Corp used Atem's injuries as an excuse to caress Atem's face. Kaiba dabbed at Atem's cuts with a gray, silk handkerchief from his own pocket. "You'll live."

"Live, and still manage to beat you in the finals," Atem teased. He tried to smirk, but winced when he moved his facial muscles.

Atem's bottom lip was split in two places, swollen and bleeding scarlet. His bottom, left jaw swelled into a purple mound, and his nose looked broken.

Marik started walking. The others followed him. "For what it's worth, I am sorry. I really am."

"Then you should have let me clobber him," Jonouchi said.

Marik realized his hands were balled into fists; he unwound his fingers before saying his next sentence. "Look, I _am_ sorry, Atem, and I swear I'm here to help, but let's establish something . . . if a moment comes where I have to chose sides – you or him – I'm choosing Bakura. As old friends, don't put me in that position. Ishizu is very loyal to you, so don't put me in that position."

"It's okay, Marik," Yugi insisted. "The whole thing was an accident. We understand, right Atem?"

Marik glanced over his shoulder to see Atem's face. It looked uncertain. The Pharaoh looked at Marik and asked, "Is it safe? To let him be alone with that child? He still seems as angry and violent as he was ten years ago."

"It's not the same," Yugi argued before Marik could reply. "He was trying to protect her."

"Still . . . seems like he'd be a bad influence on a child."

Marik laughed. "Not that child. She didn't even brush her hair before Bakura got a hold of her. She'd cut the rats out with a knife – that's why her hair's so short." Marik swiveled in order to avoid several card games being played in the street. "This settlement . . . I'm sure it looks ragged to you, but it reminds Bakura of his village. Can't you see how that would matter?"

"You mean that den of thieves, Kul Elna?" Atem scoffed.

Marik narrowed his eyes, sending another back-glance at the previous Pharaoh. The former tomb-keeper spoke with his sweetest tone. "No, dear Pharaoh, I mean the village that built your father's tomb and guaranteed that he had a place of honor in the afterlife. The same village massacred then desecrated by Aknadin because he wanted power."

"He wanted to save the Kingdom, and they _were_ thieves."

This time Seto spoke up before Marik. "Aknadin wanted to save the Kingdom and believed sacrificing a village to save a kingdom was an end that justified the means. He thought sacrificing thieves would neutralize the atrocity of slaughtering almost one hundred people; however, what he didn't consider beforehand was, had the cattle and grain that once went to pay the tomb-builders not been withheld from them to feed soldiers instead, then the town would have never resorted to robbing the tombs they once built. Were they wrong to steal? Yes. Did the very system that judged them for their crimes create the circumstances that caused their offenses? Yes. Therefore, if morality is as black and white as you often like to make it seem" – he glanced at Atem – "then we're all damned. We were that system, back then."

Jonouchi made a frustrated noise. "Yugi, can you translate what the hell Kaiba said? I didn't understand any of it."

Yugi laughed. "I think Kaiba just admitted to remembering a lot more from his past life in Egypt than he'd want to confess to knowing."

"Huh?"

Yugi sighed. "Never-mind, Jo. I'll explain it later."

Atem frowned. "That can't be true, Kaiba because I wasn't damned. I went to Aaru. My father was there as well. That means we were in the right."

"Bakura was in Aaru as well, does that make him in the right?" Marik said. "His clan is still there with your parents. Heaven isn't only for Pharaohs, and maybe it isn't just for people who are _right_ either." Marik gestured to a small home with geraniums growing in pots near the door. "We're here." Marik knocked on the door. He turned and winked at Yugi as they waited. "Just in case they're busy."

Yugi blushed and stared at his shoes.

The door opened and Ishizu beamed when she realized who her visitors were. "Marik, you found them. This is wonderful."

"Yeah, only . . ." Marik hitched his thumb back at Atem.

Ishizu gasped, pulling Atem into the building and sitting him down at a small table. She turned up the wick of a lantern to bring more light into the room. "Just a moment, I'll get some supplies." Ishizu disappeared into another room and returned with a messenger bag.

"Where's Rishid?"

"One of our neighbors is sick. He went to check on them." She saturated a pad of gauze with witch hazel and dabbed gently at Atem's bruised and cut face. "What happened?"

Marik leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as if cold. "Oh . . . I'm sure you can guess."

"Bakura?"

Marik nodded. "Bakura."

"It was a misunderstanding," Yugi said.

Ishizu looked up at Atem. He shrugged. "I suppose it was."

* * *

"Bakura, this is stupid. We should be wrapping up your hand, not shopping for art supplies." Miyu kicked the wheel of a stray shopping cart. "I swear I'm never getting caught lifting again."

"I like how you swore never to be caught again instead of never to steal again." Bakura snorted, tossing some sketch pads into a basket.

"I said what I meant."

"Yes. I'm aware. Don't worry about my hand. I've been in worse brawls, and a few scraped knuckles won't hurt me." He looked at Miyu before handing her the basket. "Honestly . . . I wanted to get away from Market Town and as far away from that asshole as possible before I lost it."

" _Before you lost it_? What do you call smashing in his face?"

"Being civil."

"I didn't like it." Miyu dug the toe of her sneaker into the dust coating the floor and speaking to her shoe. "Watching you hit him . . . it reminded me of my parents for some reason. I guess the fighting reminded me of them."

Bakura walked to Miyu, kneeling so that they stood eye-level to each other.

Miyu frowned at her shoe. "They were addicts. I got the fuck out when I was seven. The streets were better."

Bakura shook his head.

"Not that I give a shit." Miyu crossed her arms across her chest. "I can take care of myself, so don't freak out next time a mark grabs my shoulder. I always scream at them – I screamed at you too, remember? When a girl screams, guys usually let go."

Bakura stared at his aggravated knuckles. "Trust me, he had that beating coming to him for three-thousand years."

Miyu pursed her lips, thinking of all the stories that Bakura, Ryo, and Kek told her. "So . . . that was the guy."

"You pick the worst marks, kid. First me, then Ryo, and today the fucking Pharaoh." Bakura ruffled her hair, standing back to his feet.

"Hey, there were lots of people I swiped from between each of you. I'm a better thief than you."

"Oh not this again."

"It's true."

They wandered down several isles, Miyu grabbing any paint or marker that caught her eye. "You know, next time we go shopping, we should pick up a football."

"Break any of the windows and I kill you."

"Ha, that was basically you telling me I can have one."

"There's a toy store on the way home."

She laughed. "I'd say it's like my birthday, but I don't remember ever getting presents on my birthday."

"Me either," Bakura confessed. "There's no need, really. Thieves get the luxury of presents whenever it suits them."

"Exactly." Miyu grinned. She looked in her basket. "I'm done here."

As they neared the front of the store, Bakura stopped. "Quiet," he whispered. He snuck to the door and peeked out the glass front.

"Zombie?"

"No, I saw a torch."

Bakura watched a robed figure holding a torch in one hand and a thick Tome in the other hand. As he walked down the street, the dead crept from alleys, from cars, from the broken windows of shops. They didn't attack, they followed in a double line behind the hooded figure.

"Fucking destiny," Bakura swore. "Can't even punch that asshole without the gods making me pay for it."

"What?" Miyu asked, her voice hushed.

Bakura turned, staring at the child, judging how far she'd come along in her training . . . and how perhaps she was the better thief of the two of them. Bakura sighed, closing his eyes and thinking.

When he re-opened his eyes, he crouched so he could again look Miyu in the eye. "Look . . . if I let you help me steal something important – something dangerous, but important – do you promise to listen to my instructions and _not_ do whatever the hell you want?"

She glanced outside, noticing the undead walking in organized rows. "Yeah, I'll listen – just this once."

"I need you to sneak out the back door and go a few blocks ahead. That man out there has a Spell Book that caused this whole damn zombie mess. I'm going to steal it, but there's no playing that quiet. I'll have to run and he's going to chase me. I'll drop the Tome in the alley when I see you, and while I distract him – you need to get that piece of shit Book to Marik. Marik, Ishizu, Rishid, even the damn Pharaoh or that twerp that looks kinda like him, you can give it to any of those people _but no one else._ If anyone tries to take it from you then you stab them with the daggers I gave you and run from them."

Miyu set her basket in a bed of dust. "I'm gone." She ran, her feet noiseless against the tiled floor.

Bakura gave a last look out the window. He wished he had his own carmine robe. Thieving felt more natural when one dressed in flowing crimson as opposed to work-faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a tonberry picture and _Doink_ written in comic script.

"You know what," Bakura spoke to himself, clenching his hands into fists. "Fuck it."

He slipped out the door and crossed the street. The dead ignored him. He'd been raised by the dead, ghosts and skeletons left to bleach in the desert sun, so he didn't fear, or hate, or react to them, and that made him invisible to them as long as he kept Diabound hidden within himself. With so many undead following, the stranger didn't notice a single thief lurking down the street.

Bakura held his breath, eyes focused on his target. Bakura's hand trailed along a brick shop wall for support. He pushed away from the brick, lunging towards his mark. Bakura shouldered the man to the ground, snatching the Tome and running. He felt bile rise into his throat. The book he held was the same that gave Aknadin the spell to create the Items. All Bakura's pain – the loss of his family, the madness he suffered from the influence of the Ring – the piece of trash in his arms helped cause it all.

He crossed the street, outpacing his pursuer. When he caught a flash of gold-green eyes in the shadows, he tossed the book. Miyu caught it and disappeared back into the darkness, a true thief. Bakura grinned as he jogged down the street. The dead began to crowd him, still controlled by the man who created them, but Bakura found them easier to dodge than the _Mejay_ that he eluded three-thousand years ago. Bakura continued to run from, and evade, his pursuer, holding his arms to his chest as if he clutched a book he no longer held. He measured time in city blocks, waiting until he knew Miyu had enough time to reach Market Town.

Then Bakura laughed.

His cackling rang up to the ice-white moon. He jumped on top of the hood of a rusted, once blue Mitsubishi, and then to its roof. He leapt into the air, calling Diabound to the physical world. He caught his _ka_ by the tail and allowed it to lift him into the sky while he still laughed like the stars and all the gods' creations were jokes only he understood.

"Thief!" The man shrieked. "Thief! I'll kill you!"

The shouts made Bakura's laughter hurt his ribs. He laughed all the way back to Market Town.


	23. Chapter 22

*****Disclaimer: Deathshipping Lemon and extra dirty talk (just in case someone finds that offensive, I guess).**

 **Unrelated, but "football" means soccer ball, fyi.*****

* * *

"I swear to the gods, it better not rain." Kek twisted his lips and pouted. "Three more hours and I'll have everything done."

Ryo kissed Kek's frowning mouth until he felt the muscles in Kek's face relax. "It's getting dark. The dead are coming out in greater numbers."

Kek pouted again. "The three hour ETA included having to stop every few minutes to kill zombies." The first cold pricks of rain struck their arms and wind stirred their hair. Kek flung his hammer to the ground like a spoiled child. "Dammit!"

Ryo laughed at him. He closed his eyes and tilted his face up to the rain. "The gods need to fill the cisterns."

Kek answered with a growl and the sound of his fist striking a wooden beam.

Ryo laughed again, gesturing to Kek with a finger. "Come on. Stop nailing boards and come and nail me instead."

Kek arched a blonde eyebrow. "Well, when you put it that way . . ."

They jogged towards their closest safe house. They had one three blocks away from the Stadium. Halfway to shelter the clouds opened up and drenched them with sharp, hard drops of rain. Lightning sparked across the clouds, lighting up Domino and then sheathing the city back into shadows. The rain hid the rust on the cars, making them shiny once again while it washed the blood from the streets and sidewalks. In the gutter, cans, leaves, and wads of paper flowed away in little rivers, leaving the streets cleaner.

Ryo's clothes stuck to his soaked body, and his hair pressed low and flat against his sides. Kek felt his own hair sagging, heavy with rain water. Still a block away, he decided to steal Ryo's naginata and rucksack and rip Ryo's shirt away from his torso and toss it to the ground.

Ryo laughed, holding his chest with his arms. "What are you doing?"

"You're covered in blood. It'd be a waste to wash those clothes. You should just be naked with me."

"But we're in the middle of the street!"

Kek propped the naginata against an abandoned car and lifted Ryo up and set him down on the hood. "You keep saying that like it matters."

"It does matter. You're supposed to wear clothes in public."

Kek removed his boxer briefs and crawled up onto the car hood. "But I've never made love in the rain before."

"You've never knitted a sweater either," Ryo teased, though he made no move to stop Kek from undoing the belt around his waist.

After the belt, Kek pulled Ryo's pants away from his legs. "I finally realized how to own the world. You don't have to conquer it, or control it, you just don't let it conquer or control you – then it's yours and you can do anything."

"What about zombies?" Ryo moaned the question as Kek kissed his chest and stroked his bone-white thigh.

"What about asteroids? Or volcanoes? Or typhoons?"

"Fine!" Ryo laughed. The rain washed the dirt from his skin and he looked like a lily. "Have it your way, but if a corpse interrupts us in the middle of sex and stops you from cumming, it's not my fault."

Kek laughed, and kissed Ryo, tasting the salt of Ryo's lips mixed with the fresh taste of rain. Their bodies slipped against one another from the water running down their torsos and limbs. Lightning made them both glow. Kek still had Ryo's pack, and he searched for the lube by the light of lightning strikes, grinning maniacally when he found it.

Ryo frowned. "Won't the noise attract them?"

Kek sighed. "You don't want to do this, do you?"

"It's a sexy idea . . ." Ryo shrugged, a few wet strands of bang falling into his eyes. "But it's not practical."

"You're always so damn practical."

"Some of us aren't super-beings brought to life by the gods and have to be practical in order to survive."

"Fine, let's compromise." Kek jumped up and opened the car door.

Ryo followed him inside the empty car, grabbing his weapon and setting it in the front seat. The lightning still flickered outside, the thunder rumbled, and the rain poured in flat sheets against the windows, hiding them from the world. Inside, they dripped onto the upholstery and grinned at each other in the back seat.

"I've also never done it in the back seat of a car before," Kek said.

"A guy tried to corral me into his back seat once. We were at a make-out spot right outside of town and he kept pestering me, and I kept telling him no. He wouldn't listen, so I ended up stabbing him with a pencil and walking back to town." Ryo laughed. "I remember calling Mai at a gas station to come pick me up, and then we ate ice-cream and had a zombie movie marathon." The smile dropped from Ryo's face. "Suddenly, that story isn't as fun as it used to be."

Kek nuzzled his nose against Ryo's neck. "You have the worst fucking taste in men, Ryo."

"That one was a second date! How was I supposed to know?"

Kek traced his fingers down Ryo's shoulders and arms. In turn, Ryo outlined Kek's stomach and Adonis belt. "So?" Kek asked. "Did you really stab him with a pencil?"

"Yes I did." Ryo's strokes grew broad, sweeping up to Kek's chest, nails grazing their way back down to Kek's abs. "I hate hurting people, but I'm not going to sit there and let some jerk take advantage of me."

Kek snickered, hands sliding down to Ryo's back thighs and perfect bubble of an ass. "I would have loved to have seen it. Your eyes go the most beautiful shade of rusty-brown when you're pissed."

A flash of lightning caught the blush on Ryo's cheeks, as if he felt ashamed for ever losing his temper. Kek banished the expression by grabbing Ryo's erection and kneading it. Ryo grunted and leaned into Kek's body, holding onto Kek's shoulders.

"How should we do this?" Ryo asked, his voice muffled by Kek's chest.

Kek examined the cramped space. "Face the window."

"Okay." Ryo squirmed, turning around and folding his forearms and leaning where the car-door edge met the window.

Kek situated himself behind Ryo. Like Ryo, Kek kept his left knee pressed into the car seat, and his right foot pressed against the floorboard for support and balance. He took the bottle of lube and used the gel to prep Ryo, stroking his shaft at the same time to help ease the initial discomfort.

"I still don't believe we're doing it this out in the open," Ryo complained, although he moaned as Kek's fingers brushed against his prostate. "You're crazy."

"There's a lot of evidence to support that claim." Kek noticed that Ryo shivered, and he let go of Ryo's erection in order to wipe the rainwater off of Ryo's shoulders. He chuckled. "Just don't stab me with a pencil. I'll quit if you want me to."

"You better not quit." Ryo teased Kek by thrusting his ass backward. "Finish what you started."

"Bossy." Kek traced his tongue along a long scar cutting across Ryo's shoulder. He covered himself in lube, shuddering as the shock of cold gel covered the heat of his need.

With one hand on Ryo's stomach and the other hold Ryo's hip, Kek pushed inside.

"Oh fuck," Ryo moaned, gooseflesh prickled his white back.

Kek grunted, pushing up into Ryo's body again.

"Oh fuck!" Ryo moaned louder.

Kek grinned, licking his lips before pushing in again. Ryo wasn't a quiet lover, but he usually stayed away from the major swear words. The fact the he was calling out f-bombs meant that their position angled Kek in a way that struck Ryo's prostate at just the right angle and Kek made a mental note of that for future excursions. With one tanned hand still holding Ryo's belly, Kek sped his pace, making Ryo spill out a string of _fucks_ and _oh gods_ as he pressed his forehead against the cool, fogged glass of the car window.

They'd been going at it for quite a while when a thud against the window startled them. A corpse leaned against the glass, trying to push his way inside, probably attracted to the car's rocking and Ryo's screams. Strips of putrid flesh hung from a bite wound in the cadaver's cheek. The rain washed away any blood, but half the zombie's face maintained a dark, purple bruise from the wound. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses dangled from one ear. The frame bent as the zombie pressed his face harder into the window.

Ryo spread a white hand over the glass to cover the zombie's face. "Fuck you, go away!" Ryo looked down as if that would make the corpse disappear.

Kek studied the corpse, but didn't slow down. Ryo continued to scream and arch into Kek's every thrust – he wasn't about to slow down unless he had no other choice. "Want me to deal with it?" he panted in Ryo's ear.

"Don't you dare fucking stop!" Ryo half-growled over his shoulder.

The rough tone and commanding attitude sent a glorious jolt through Kek's belly and up his cock. The hand on Ryo's hip fumbled until he found Ryo's erection. He stroked Ryo with fast flicks of his wrist, hoping Ryo was close because Kek could feel his own orgasm beginning to tremble deep in his gut.

Ryo gave up on profanity, screaming wordlessly and drawing the attention of a second cadaver. Throwing his face up, Ryo managed a final, murmured curse. "Fuck, Kek, you fucking whore."

And then Ryo came over the car seat, and Kek groaned in relief because any ability he had to postpone his own climax disappeared the moment he heard Ryo call him a whore.

Kek gasped for breath, holding Ryo around the waist with both arms and leaning into Ryo's scarred, ivory shoulder. "That . . . was . . . really sexy."

"I'm sorry." Ryo's whisper sounded more like an embarrassed squeak. "I don't think I've ever said anything that disrespectful before in my life."

"Are you kidding?" Kek kissed the crown of Ryo's head, still holding him from behind. "That was a total turn-on."

"R-really?"

"It sounds adorable when you swear." Kek grinned. "And I bet your cheeks look like strawberries right now. That's also adorable."

Ryo made another shy squeaking sound. "S-shouldn't you go and kill them? I think there's five around the car now."

Kek looked up, noticing more dead hands and faces pressed against the windshield and windows. Kek poked Ryo in the ribs. "Keep the bed warm for me, sweetheart. I'll be back in three minutes."

Ryo let out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah, I'll keep your pillow fluffed."

He grabbed his kukris and crawled into the front seat, careful not to trip over the spear-like weapon up front. Kek positioned himself on the passenger's side of the car to ensure he put distance between Ryo and the zombies that would attack Kek as soon as he opened the door. He shouldered the door open rather than pushed it, knocking one corpse to the puddled street. Kek jumped out, his bare feet splashing in cold rain. He kicked the car door shut, stabbing a corpse through the eye-socket. Kek jumped on top of the car, scanning the area – four more near the car, at least half a dozen walking towards it.

Kek laughed into the humid air, the rain chilling his skin and lightning showing him where to strike in brief flashes. He landed on the trunk, using the weight of one blade to crush into the skull of his second victim. A cold, stiff hand clutched at Kek's ankle with clumsy fingers. Kek threw himself against the creature, pushing them both to the street. He grabbed the cadaver's hair and as they crashed to the ground, bashed the creature's skull against the curb. Kek flipped to his feet, chopping the jaw from a fourth zombie while bashing into the skull a fifth. With another stroke, he finished off the jaw-less corpse.

Kek sprinted towards his next victim, a shadow in the dark night. Rainwater kicked up around his feet and blood dropped in clumps instead of drops as his blades worked. Kek blinked. He was a good distance away from the car and a trail of dead lay motionless behind him. He walked back to the car. Everything blurred so quickly that he could barely remember all his kills and he found himself craving the dry bed in their nearby safe house. Kek cleaned his blades with rain and the tattered rags clothing the dead before he slipped back into the car.

"Did you have fun?"

"It wasn't as much fun as hearing you scream 'fuck'." Kek dried his steel as best he could on the car upholstery. "I need to go home and dry and oil my blades."

"Yeah." Ryo yawned. "I'm ready to pass out . . ." Ryo peered through the rain-glazed window. "Kek? Where did you throw my shoes and pants?"

"Uh . . ." Kek scratched behind the back of his head. "No clue."

"How am I going to walk back to our camp without shoes?"

Kek grinned again as he sheathed his weapons, leaning forward and caressing Ryo's cheek. "Who said I'd even let you walk?"

He exited the car again, pulling Ryo out of the car. Ryo reached out and snatched his naginata before Kek carried him bridal style through the rain. Ryo held onto Kek's neck with his free arm. Ryo started chuckling. Light and musical at first, but the sound grew into a loud, out-of-control sound. "Help!" he screamed, still laughing to himself. "I'm being carried off into the night by a naked maniac!"

Ryo's laughter caught, and Kek joined him. He even let out an evil cackle to help set the mood. Ryo continued to call out for help, kicking his legs as they dangled in the air while Kek carried him. No one alive heard them, and if the dead stood nearby, they stayed in the shadows, out of sight. By the time they reached the hotel room they currently used as a safe-house, they both gasped for air in between rounds of laughter.

* * *

When the sky broke, the rain flooded down. Marik enjoyed the rain, when he had electricity, but stuck in Ishizu's hut with only wick lamps and a few candles made Marik want to scream. Lightning clawed at the clouds, but that light gave Marik no comfort.

"I can walk you home," Rishid offered. He had returned from his neighbor's visit twenty minutes prior.

"We still have company," Marik muttered, making an effort to be polite, though he itched to get back home to Bakura.

Ishizu had set Atem's nose, cleaned his bruises, and bandaged his cuts some time ago. They'd spent the last hour or so talking, exchanging stories about the end of the world and planning for the upcoming tournament.

"We should get back, too," Yugi said. "We've stayed too long. It'll be dangerous to travel this late as it is."

"I can get you a hotel room," Marik offered, eyes locked on the rain . . . on the dark sky.

"I refuse to sleep in this rats' nest of a town," Kaiba said.

Marik smirked, side glancing the former corporate CEO. "You know, they say one person per hammock, but you really can fit two. Bakura and I always shared."

"Yes, I'm sure rogues like you enjoy being cramped together with the fleas, but I didn't have my bed imported from a Scottish castle to sleep in a sling of rags suspended up in a shed."

"Don't knock it until you've tried it."

He could see Ishizu's frown, but couldn't stop from being an ass. Marik was being a hypocrite and he knew it. He loved high thread-count, silk sheets, chilled champagne, and servants as much as any other kingpin; however when Marik thought of the "rats' nest of a town" Seto currently snubbed his nose at, Marik thought of Bakura. He thought of Bakura speckled with flecks of dried cement from laying brick, Bakura with dirt under his nails from gardening, Bakura dragging Marik to every damn singer and juggler in town to watch them perform, Bakura waking Miyu up at two in the morning for "stealth training" – which was his shitty excuse for creeping around the slums and leaving baskets of vegetables from the garden on people's doorsteps – Bakura cursing and sucking on his thumb after bashing it with a hammer while repairing an old, one-eyed woman's roof who lived near Miyu. Bakura liked Market Town. He acted the part of carefree thief, red cloak and tales of jewels dangling from his hair and neck, but beneath all that existed a heart that was pure Kul Elna in nature, a small village filled with all types of people, thieves mixed in with the artisans and builders. Kaiba had no right, _no right_ , to act superior than even the lowest beggar in Market Town.

"Jonouchi would miss Mai and I would miss Anzu," Yugi spoke up before the conversation could further escalate. "They get worried if we don't come home."

Jonouchi snorted. "If by worried you mean they nag at us for an hour."

That brought a smile to Marik's face, remembering the time he'd slapped Bakura. "Yes, Jonouchi, that means they're worried. I don't see how you're even married."

Yugi stood up, slinging his backpack around his shoulders. "You know, I could easily say the same thing about Bakura."

"Bakura isn't married," Marik said.

"Really? Because you're missing a bracelet and I saw him wearing it." Yugi's tone was so naive that if Marik didn't know better, he'd think Yugi was being candid. Yugi scratched the back of his head. "I guess he must have stolen it from you."

Marik's fingers automatically slid across his bare wrist. "Touche."

Yugi studied Marik with his bright, purple eyes. There wasn't any cattiness or bitterness in his expression. "I'm just trying to show you how it feels on the other end, Marik. That hammock remark wasn't nice. Nor was making fun of Jonouchi."

"What's he talking about?" Jonouchi's attempt to whisper was a failure. He somehow managed to make his voice more conspicuous in the crowded room. "I don't get it."

Yugi sighed. "I'll explain on the way home, Jo."

"Everyone's tired." Ishizu stood up, smoothing her dress as she tried to smooth over the conversation. "I believe sleep will benefit all of us." She gave a little bow to Atem that had Marik clenching his hands into fists. "Goodnight, everyone."

"Night, Ishizu." Yugi smiled. "Despite the, uh, wrinkles in our reunion, I think today has gone really well. It'll be good to see you all again at the tournament."

Marik ignored Yugi's words. Through the rain and thunder, he heard footsteps pounding through the streets. A small, slender, white form sprinted through the rain carrying something large in her arms.

"Miyu?" Marik ran out into the rain, feeling water soak through his shirt and pour down his neck.

"Marik!" She screamed, running into Ishizu's hut and out of the rain. The girl crashed onto her knees, slamming the huge book to the ground. She gasped for air, trying to speak and breathe at the same time, but having oxygen for neither task. "Glad – I found you. You weren't home. Was worried."

"Where's Bakura?" Marik squeezed his bare wrist now, staring at the book that looked old and tattered, but somehow invoked the darkest memories of Marik's childhood. His initiation, murdering his father, hurting countless people, everything flooded Marik's mind when he looked at the old Spell Book.

"Decoy." Miyu's small hands balled into fists, her breath more stable. "We were about to leave the craft store. Y'know? I got some paint and stuff. We were going to go get a football, just kick it around like some normal fucking people for a night, but then some creepy hobo in a robe walked down the street. The zombies followed him in two straight lines." Miyu took her fists and punched the leather binding with a growl. "So we had to steal this instead. Bakura stayed behind as a decoy so I could bring it here." She wobbled to her feet, limbs shaking, but Marik wasn't sure if it was from cold or anger.

She thrust the book into Atem's hands. "He did it for you! You're s'posed to end this, right? That's why Marik's been playing that stupid card game! That's why Bakura has to pretend he's not upset about Marik being in the tournament, but I can tell he is! Y'guys were trying to get this, right? Take it! End this! Do it now! Because I swear if anything happens to Bakura because he did your job for you – I'll kill you!"

Marik scooped the child up into his arms, a small thing, too small for her age, but she felt heavy as he held her. "You'll do no such thing," Marik said, only half aware of everyone staring at them in silent shock.

Their quest, their carefully planned tournament, all in vain now that the object of their goals lay clutched in the Pharaoh's hands. Marik could tell they didn't know what to do about the change in the manuscript they'd written for themselves, so they stood there and watched Marik instead. Only Ishizu moved, bringing a light blanket and wrapping it around Miyu's soaked shoulders as she shivered in Marik's arms.

Marik pulled back so he could look at Miyu. "Bakura spent all that time training you so you wouldn't grow up to be him. Swearing to kill the Pharaoh is the _last possible thing_ he'd want you to do."

Miyu tried to shake Marik's shoulders, but she wasn't strong enough to budge him. "Dammit, Marik, what's wrong with you? Why aren't you pissed off? Things always go wrong for people like us. What if he doesn't come back?"

"Look, here's what you need to know about Bakura. Bakura is made out of shadows. Death is nothing but a dice game to him. He always comes back." Marik's gaze wandered back to the rain-soaked dark. "Sometimes it takes longer than you want it to, but he always comes back."


	24. Chapter 23

Yugi shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "That's it then. We have to go find him."

"Who?" Jonouchi asked.

"Bakura. If Kamenwati is chasing him through Domino, then we have to save him."

"Yugi." Seto spoke in a calm voice. "We have to get Atem back to the mansion. He needs to look through the Tome. He needs to destroy the undead."

Yugi clenched his jaw. His eyes narrowed. "Yes, and we'll make sure he does that. _After_ we save Bakura."

Seto sighed, and Yugi saw that he was at his patience's end. "You think with your heart, and I'd be lying if I said that didn't have its uses, but right now you need to think with your brain. We can't risk humanity to go running blindly through the dark and rain in search of one person."

"We'd do it for you!" Yugi insisted.

"Then you're a fool. I wouldn't want you to. I'd want you to make my sacrifice mean something, and I'm sure Bakura feels the same. Why else would he send the girl to us and stay behind as a decoy? He wanted his mission to succeed."

Yugi turned to Atem. "Atem, please, I know you and he were enemies, but we can't abandon him. Please. What if it was me? Could you leave me behind? If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't look for me then fine, we can go, but if the answer is you'd search for me . . . then that's the only right thing for us to do."

He saw Atem's eyes dart between Yugi and Seto. Yugi felt guilty for dragging Atem into the debate when he knew how Atem felt about Seto, but he needed Atem's help. Yugi already felt the weight of three lives, those who died gathering their earlier ammo, weighing on him. He couldn't let that number become four.

"Get out of here." Marik spat out into the rain. "I already told you fools, he'll be back, and he's not going to want any of you here when he arrives, so go."

"Marik, I'm really trying to help."

A strained smiled stretched across Marik's face. "I know, Yugi. It means a lot. More than you know, but Seto has a point."

"Okay. Fine. Seto, Jo, escort Atem back to the mansion so he can try and interpret the Tome." Yugi stood beside Marik. "Let's go."

"Yugi, you can't be serious?" Jo shook his head. "Look, I know that you blame yourself for losing Ryo, but saving his dark-half won't bring Ryo back from the dead."

"He's not dead!" Yugi screamed louder than he'd meant to. His shout brought a tense, thick silence to the room.

Miyu broke it. "He's not. I saw him yesterday."

Yugi spun around, so fast he almost fell to the floor. "You saw Ryo?"

"Yeah, I see him and Kek all the time. Bakura makes me take them lunch."

Yugi's eyes stung. He rubbed them with a fist. "I knew he was alive."

Bakura's voice, loud and dramatic, echoed through the small room. "Of course he's alive. You morons never gave him enough credit."

Yugi looked up. Bakura leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. His wet clothes clung to him, as did the white mop of hair. He shivered, but he didn't complain. He had a smirk on his face like everything was going according to some sort of plan he'd concocted months beforehand.

"You asshole!" Miyu shouted. "What the hell took you so long? Now it's raining and I'll never get to play football."

"Yeah, you asshole." Marik set Miyu back on the ground. "We couldn't possibly play now."

Bakura's smirk softened into a grin as he looked at Marik. "Well, life sucks. Maybe tomorrow."

"Where's Ryo now?" Yugi asked.

"How the hell would I know? I'm not his mother," Bakura snapped, but then he sighed as if he were trying to maintain some semblance of patience. "Look, if you want to find Ryo, he'll probably be in the lower streets tomorrow hunting the dead."

"No, they're going to be at the obstacle course tomorrow," Miyu corrected.

"Obstacle course?" Yugi asked once again.

"Yeah. They turned the Kaiba Corp Stadium into a gauntlet so they can ax a thousand zombies without getting mobbed and eaten."

"A thousand zombies? That'll make the tournament interesting." Jonouchi laughed.

"Katsuya, you moron. She didn't mean a literal thousand undead," Seto said.

"Yes I did." Miyu frowned at Seto.

"That's impossible."

The child bristled. "For you. Not them."

"It's _physically_ impossible to kill that many in one day."

" _For you_. Kek kills over a hundred a day just wandering through the streets. He'll probably get more than a thousand – have fun cleaning your stupid stadium afterward, jerk." Miyu crossed her arms over her chest, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed to two stubborn slits.

Seto snorted, his body posture much like the girl's, only he kept his expression neutral.

"Who's Kek?" Atem asked.

The child's eyes widened a little, as if she'd let a secret slip out that she hadn't intended to divulge. "Um . . . he's Ryo's friend." She turned to Bakura. "Isn't it past my bedtime?"

"Yes," Bakura said, smirking again. He laced his fingers with Marik's. "C'mon. Let's get the fuck out of here."

"Wait." Yugi stepped closer to the door to stop Bakura from leaving.

Bakura clenched his free hand into a fist. "What now? I gave you the stupid Tome. I want you bastards out of my life now."

"I know. I'm sorry." Yugi gave a little bow in apology. When he straightened up, he looked up at Bakura. "I just wanted to say thank you. The tournament was our best idea, but even without the Items it was still dangerous to play against someone using the Tome. You saved us a lot of trouble, maybe our lives. You've helped us save the world, Bakura."

Bakura closed his eyes and sighed. "Stop. I haven't helped _you_ do a damn thing. I told Marik I'd help him find the Tome. I don't care about saving the world. I care about Marik and Ishizu not having to enter that gods-forsaken tournament. That's it."

"Thank you anyway," Yugi insisted, smiling. He wondered if Bakura realized he'd added Ishizu to his last sentence.

"Marik, it's pouring." Ishizu gestured outside. "Take an umbrella."

Yugi noticed Rishid held two black umbrellas. He hadn't noticed Rishid leave the room to fetch them.

Marik shook his head. "Sister, only you would keep umbrellas on hand during times like these."

"Someone has to look out for you three."

Rishid tossed the first umbrella to Marik. The second, he crouched down in order to hand it to Miyu. "Do I get to play football, too?"

She nodded, her face serious. "You'll have to so it can be two-on-two." A Bakura-like smirk lit up her face. "Ishtars versus White Hairs, prepare to get your asses kicked."

With that Yugi watched them go. Bakura and Marik continued to clutch hands as they shared an umbrella. The child walking beside them with her own umbrella and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, complaining that she wasn't waking up at dawn to weed the garden after the day they'd had. Yugi smiled as he watched them go, happy to watch them that way, arguing in the dark and standing close together.

* * *

The Tome made Atem shiver. He felt the Shadow Magic radiating from the pages, the binding tanned from curious leather. As he held it, Atem couldn't help remembering the rush he used to feel as he issued a Penalty Game to those who failed their Shadow Games. Atem closed his eyes, swallowing. "Let's go home."

"Pharaoh." Ishizu's tone was soft, comforting, but painful because he knew she was going to delay them and he'd have to bear the horrid Tome for that much longer. "Before you go, I should probably tell you about Kek."

"Ryo's friend?" Yugi asked.

"They're . . . closer than that, but . . . it's not that. It's who he is." Ishizu shook her head, as if trying to re-word her statement in her own head. "No, it's who he was. Before."

Atem swallowed again, his mouth dry. "Who was he?"

She gave a helpless shrug. "Marik. He was Marik. The darker part of him." She looked up, directly at Atem. "Please, keep in mind that isn't who he is any longer. I tried to talk to him, twice, but he ran away each time. Yet Ryo talked to me. He said that the goddess Isis gave him a complete soul and brought him back to free the hearts of the dead so they can move on. Again, please, if you find him and Ryo, don't judge him based on what he did as Marik any more than you judge Marik for what he did in the past."

Atem shook his head. "Aren't you afraid?"

Ishizu smiled and shook her head no. "Maybe I would have been, but after seeing how much Bakura's changed since he's been back, I couldn't help but have a more open-minded view with Kek. They gave Marik the medical supplies I used to treat your wounds. Haven't you noticed the burned bodies all over town? They're doing a lot of good."

"The hospital . . . and that music we heard." Yugi grinned. "That really was Ryo's CD I heard playing. I'll bet you my last god card I'm right. They've been helping us, too."

Atem couldn't help but match Yugi's smile. It amazed him how his former other half always thought the best of everyone.

"I don't know, Yug," Jonouchi said. "The thought of him being back makes me sick to my stomach."

Yugi's smile dropped. "I'm sorry, Jo."

"That's all I wanted to say." Ishizu bowed. "I thought it'd be better that you knew before you accidentally saw them."

"Thank you for telling us, Ishizu." Atem smiled, although he didn't feel as confident as Yugi in his own expression. He turned towards Seto, wordlessly begging him to demand they leave.

Seto nodded, lightly touching Atem's upper arm as if to guide him out the door.

"I'm sorry." Ishizu walked towards the door to show them out properly although the little tin room was only wide enough to hold them and the table in the center. "I don't have anymore umbrellas."

"The rain won't hurt us." Yugi laughed. "And there's an armored truck waiting for us a block away from town, so we won't be in the rain for long."

* * *

"Since when do you have a bedtime?" Marik asked with a grin on his face.

Miyu rolled her eyes. "Since I didn't feel like explaining how _your_ former alter ego likes to run around the streets naked when he fights zombies. I think we've had enough drama for one day."

"And I had to get out of there. Yugi was already thanking me, that's like a hug away from getting drafted into the friendship cult and I'd rather stay uninitiated."

"It's not so bad." Marik shrugged. "Friends can be useful."

"Speak for yourself." Miyu snorted. "Friends are lame."

A single laugh parted Marik's lips. "Bakura, are you sure she's not yours somehow?"

"Common sense isn't genetic, just look at you and your sister."

The bridges leading from building to building were slick, but Marik had his flashlight and none of them had trouble balancing as they walked across. Ishizu and Rishid's umbrellas helped, but the rain still soaked through their shoes while they stepped through puddles and full running streams as the water rushed towards the rain gutters. They stopped near Miyu's shack, staring at one another for a moment.

The girl frowned. She didn't say anything, but she looked anxious to go inside.

Bakura's frowned matched hers. "Grab some dry clothes and let's go."

She blinked. "What?"

Marik nudged Bakura in the ribs. "What? Are we going to have a slumber party?"

"Her roof leaks."

"No," she said, "you fixed that, remember? It's fine now."

Bakura glared at Miyu when she debunked his excuse. "I don't trust you to stay out of trouble. Until the Pharaoh's gone, you need to stay where I can see you."

Marik laughed. "The Pharaoh is not the bogey-man."

"He was when I was a child," Bakura muttered into the rain.

"You know, it will be easier to get a football if I'm already there in the morning." Miyu ran into her hut to gather dry clothes.

Marik laughed and poked Bakura's side again. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Next you'll be building her her own bedroom."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "It's just one night – it's been a shitty night."

Marik leaned a little closer, savoring the heat rising from Bakura's body despite the rain-cooled night. Their trip home was as dark as it was wet with only their flashlight to keep them from being blind, but Bakura's larger-than-life attitude almost made Marik forget the dark.

"You should have seen her." Marik gestured to Miyu's hut. "She slammed the book into Atem's hands, yelled at him, and then threatened to kill him if anything happened to you."

A grin teased the corner of Bakura's face. "Yeah? And what did you do?"

"Told her to calm down because you'd be back. I know better than to think I'll ever be rid of you by this point."

Bakura leaned in closer. His lips almost brushed against Marik's mouth. "Damn right."

Miyu's voice made them both separate. "Kid's back. Don't do anything disgusting."

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "Define disgusting?"

"Uh . . . clothes have to stay on, and keep your hands at your sides."

"That's pretty strict." Bakura turned around as they walked to their own square of roof. He back glanced at Marik. "You know, had your sister not been there, I would have sucked your face off in front of everyone simply to cause a scandal."

"I doubt it would have caused much of a scandal."

"Would have been worth the try."

"Well, it would have been fun to try, at least, but I think you would have only managed to gross out Jonouchi. Yugi isn't as naive as he seems to be – he noticed the bracelet – and Seto was being awfully attentive to Atem's split lip before my sister cleaned the wounds up."

They'd reached the door. Bakura opened it so they could escape the rain. Above them, the drops puddled on top of the glass, creating dark, wavy lines against the glass panes. Bakura looked at Marik, his expression showed a hint a bemusement mixed with a hint of sardonic humor. "No shit?"

"Let's get out of these wet clothes." Marik walked to their bedroom. As he slipped into a pair of dry sweat pants, Marik chuckled and asked, "So who do you think tops between those two?"

Bakura made a noise, a sort of a snort, mixed with a expulsion of air, mixed with a sentiment of _your guess is as good as mine._ "They probably have to duel each other just to get hard." Bakura wrinkled his nose in amusement. "You think the Pharaoh sits in a chair and demands Kaiba treat him like a king?"

Marik raised an eyebrow. "You think Kaiba does the same and expects Atem to treat him like a boss?"

They both chuckled. Marik stopped first. "I'll get some towels for our hair."

They went back to the main room. Miyu crouched in front of the hearth with her hands lifted near the flames she'd revived while Bakura and Marik changed. Bakura had one towel around his shoulders, and he used a second one to dry Miyu's short-cropped hair.

She slapped his hands away. "Stop that. I'm fine. I don't need it dried."

Bakura ignored her until the white mess stopped dripping water onto her dry clothes. "Do you think I'm going to let you take a rest if you get pneumonia? No, you'll still have to train." He dropped the towel over her face and then worked on his own hair.

Marik went about the room lighting lamps and candles. The fire brought some light to the room, but not enough. Never enough. When finished, Marik sat at the table and frowned. Bakura noticed and sat beside him, resting his white mop of hair on Marik's brown shoulder. Marik smelt rain in Bakura's hair, and couldn't help but smile a little despite the shadows in the room.

"Let's play a card game that doesn't involve the risk of having your soul banished to a dark dimension."

Marik rested his cheek on top of Bakura's half-dry hair. "But that used to be your favorite part."

Bakura gave Marik a single laugh before getting up and putting a kettle in the hearth. Marik got a deck of regular cards and shuffled them. Miyu turned away from the fire in order to play as well. The firelight made them and the walls glow various quivering shades of orange and yellow. Bakura stretched up and snatched a jar off of a high shelf. He pulled a few packets out of the jar, grinning and smacking them against his palm.

"What's that?" Marik asked.

"Hot chocolate."

Miyu turned around. "How the hell did you find that?"

Bakura gave a dismissive gesture with a flick of his wrist as he gathered mugs and poured the contents of each packet into each mug. "Perhaps you are the better cut-purse, but nobody out scavenges _me_. I stole from kings, finding some old packets of hot chocolate wasn't even worth my time."

From a trunk he pulled out a bottle and tossed it to Marik, winking. "However _that_ was worth my time."

Marik looked at the label. "Whiskey. Nice."

Bakura set the mugs down and Marik poured a touch into two of the three ceramic mugs as Bakura used the boiling water from the kettle to fill their cups.

"Can I try it?" Miyu held her cup up towards the bottle.

"Hell no." Marik held the bottle well out of reach.

Bakura sat down, sliding his cup over to the child.

"Bakura."

"What? She's eleven."

Miyu took a large swig, making a face. "It's okay, but it's kinda a waste of chocolate."

Bakura shrugged and took his cup back, and Miyu sat content with her own mug. They listened to the rain pelt the glass above them, and the thunder grumbling in the distance like a cantankerous old man. Marik dealt the cards.

They played poker. Marik frowned at his hand. None of his numbers paired up, but he did have three hearts. Keeping his eyes pointed at his own cards he tapped the table with his finger. "I saw you palm that card, Miyu."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said as if offended.

"It's no use cheating against him." Bakura set three cards face down and pushed them forward. Marik dealt three to replace them while Bakura continued talking. "I don't even cheat against him – in card games. Dice would be a different story."

"Yeah, you don't cheat because he has you trained like a good doggy." Miyu slapped two cards down, including the one she tried to palm.

Marik gave her two and took two for himself. He got one more heart, but ended up with nothing better than a pair of fives. Bakura didn't even have enough luck to get a pair, and Miyu grinned as she flashed a full house at them.

"See? You didn't need to cheat. You won."

"Never hurts to have some insurance."

Marik glanced at Bakura who shrugged as he took the cards and shuffled them for a new game. Marik wanted to tell her that she didn't need insurance anymore, that everything would work out, that she was safe, but he didn't believe in any of that. They, all three of them, were always the wrong color on the roulette wheel. And even now Marik had a feeling in the pit of his gut, a dark feeling that reminded him of the terror of his initiation. The tournament would go on regardless of Miyu and Bakura risking their lives to steal the Tome. Somehow fate would fuck them all over again.

They talked in low voices, competing against the storm. Bakura and Miyu exchanged dirty jokes; Marik watched the candles burn lower. The girl started dropping her head and closing her eyes. Intermittently, at first, but there came a time when the cards hung low enough from her hands for Marik to see that she was one card shy of a straight. He reached out his hand to shake her shoulder, but Bakura touched Marik's arm and shook his head no. They continued the game without her, and when they finished, Bakura stood up, careful that his chair didn't scrape the floor.

He fixed a pallet close enough to the fire for warmth but far enough not to catch the bedding on fire. Then he slipped the cards out of the girl's hand, and lifted her from the chair.

"So much trouble for a pen," she muttered, not realizing she was asleep.

Bakura set her down, covered her to her chin, and then walked towards the bedroom, winking at Marik and beckoning him to follow. Marik followed him with a candle in one hand and a oil lamp in the other. Bakura shut the door with care to avoid making noise.

Marik set his candle and lamp on a small table they used for a night stand. "You're a little too good dealing with her. I've seen it a thousand times and it still blows my fucking mind."

Bakura went to the table, picking up Marik's deck of Duel Monster cards and going through them. "We really need to tweak your deck for the tournament. Your cards are good, but you won't be fighting slackers next week."

Marik forced a smile on his face, although it felt like the effort would break his jaw. "Throw them in the trash. Who cares now, right? You gave the Tome to the Pharaoh. He's Mr. Save-the-World-Hero, isn't he? I'll give my locator cards away for a football and a box of pens."

Bakura's smile looked soft and sweet on his face, and it broke Marik's heart. No confidence lingered in the expression, only rueful dreams he knew would scatter like mist when the sun rose in the morning. "You think so? He took a single card from Marik's deck. Marik didn't need to see the Winged Dragon, he knew what card Bakura chose. Bakura went to the bedroom window and opened it. Rain and wind blew into the room. Bakura ignored the weather, holding the card out and letting it go.

A flash of lightning lit up the beautiful artwork of the card as it blew far away into the night.

"It's gone," Bakura said. "It just flew away, and if it's still gone in the morning then you can sell your locator cards." He shut the window, shaking droplets off of his hands. "But we both know that by the time Ra rises out of the Duat for another day that card will have found you again."

"You feel it, too?"

Bakura lay on the bed. "I've known it since the day you brought the damn thing home."

"But the Tome." Marik lay next to Bakura, leaning over him to look deep into his silvery eyes. "Atem has it. The dead can be released now."

"Yes, and the rogue tomb-keeper who rose them up will snap his fingers, mutter shucks under his breath, and then walk home to Egypt to knit sweaters since he got defeated." Bakura sighed. "You know how this game is played, Marik. We were the best at it. One plan fails, you think of another one. You don't stop, even if fucking Atem will win in the end. That guy has Shadow Alchemy formulas carved into his _face_. He's not stopping. He's not going home. He's not quitting until he dies."

Marik closed his eyes. He felt Bakura's coarse palm grace against his cheek.

"Hey," Bakura whispered. "We'll survive."

"At least I don't have to give you up at the end of this tournament."

Bakura snorted. "To the Pharaoh of all people."

"It was so hard to let go of that damn Ring. I could feel you in the metal against my fingertips. I had no problem handing over the Rod, but I waited until the last possible second before I handed over the Ring."

"It was best. You needed your family and I needed to be stupid." A charming if not roguish grin sat crooked on Bakura face. "I really did need to fight that last Shadow Game. Had I not, had I not done everything possible, my heart would have been too guilty to balance against Ma'at's feather."

"Only you could get into Heaven by being wretched."

"Hey, it's one of my many talents."

Marik leaned down, kissing Bakura's mouth. "After she threatened the Pharaoh's life, I told her you were made of shadows, that death was your dice game, and that you always came back."

Bakura kissed Marik again. "I should do reckless and heroically out-of-character things more often just to hear you dirty talk. Tell me again how I'm made from shadows."

"Shut up, asshole."

They both started laughing, their fingers eager with each other's bodies. Marik shifted so that he lay between Bakura's legs, but the bed creaked and they both winced.

"About this . . ." Bakura scanned the room as if it'd provide an answer.

"You have taken all the fun out of being gay, Bakura. Loud, unbridled sex is supposed to be part of the perks for spitting in the face of evolution." Marik tried to make the statement playful by thrusting into Bakura's crotch, but that made the bed creak again.

"How 'bout the floor?"

Marik shifted to his feet, removing his clothing and grabbing the lube from under the mattress while he was up. "I'm going to pretend that we're doing this to be kinky."

Bakura lay a blanket on the floor and stripped his clothes off before sitting cross-legged in the center. Marik dropped to his knees, sucking on Bakura's bottom lip as he drenched the thief with lube. Marik dropped himself into Bakura's lap, sliding his body down Bakura's erection and biting his lower lip hard in order to stay silent. They sat for a moment, catching their breath.

Marik kissed Bakura's throat, moving upward until their lips touched. He didn't move his body; he sat and squeezed his muscles around Bakura's shaft in a vain attempt to compensate for the lack of preparation. Bakura made bottoming seem so easy that Marik sometimes forgot he needed to start out slower when they switched, but he hadn't wanted to go slow. His nails clawed into Bakura's shoulders as they kept their mouths semi-locked to try and mute the harsh sounds of their breathing and the little wayward sighs escaping their mouths. Marik started to rock, slow, rhythmic buoys of his hips.

" _Gods, Marik. Gods, Marik. Gods, Marik_ ," Bakura whispered into Marik's mouth, gasping for air between words.

His consistent, whispered chant drove Marik on, his mild rocking changing to circles and hip rolls. Bakura curled into Marik's neck, his open mouth blowing hot, quick breaths onto Marik's sweating skin. They hadn't been forced to be quiet since their earliest days together. A charm existed in it. Each breath, each sigh, each harsh, needful whisper became a declaration.

"Touch me," Marik breathed into Bakura's hair, feeling himself climb.

Bakura's fingers fumbled against Marik's chest, then belly, then thigh. He teased with clumsy touches, but after a moment he gripped Marik's shaft with a sure, strong grip and stroked with a consistent quick-quick-slow rhythm that always drove Marik a little extra crazy. Marik moved faster, and Bakura matched the increased pace with the strokes of his hand.

Marik found himself clamping his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming, Bakura's mouth pressed into Marik's throat at the same time and for the same reason.

"Gods, Marik," Bakura whispered one last time after they finished, as if the countless times he'd said it during didn't count.

"That was the _thanks for the roof_ I was trying to give you hours ago."


	25. Chapter 24

*****Life goals: one day own Seto's wine cellar.*****

* * *

They had an armored truck waiting for them, but reaching it was no easy task. Ishizu had given them a wind-up toy, a toy cat that rang a bell. Yugi used it once they were on the ladder and close to street-level. He tossed the toy into a bush as far from the ladder as he could throw, and most of the undead shuffled to the noise. They went without flashlights, the glow would only attract the dead to them. Atem led, his sword making silent work of nearby corpses as they splashed through the street to where the truck waited for their return.

In the dark, nothing seemed real to Seto. The corpses looked like mere shadows, illusions one could ignore, and the blood that mixed into the rainwater in clumps instead of streams looked like scraps of loose shadows and not blood at all.

Yugi and Jonouchi guarded the rear. Seto often mocked Katsuya, but he had to admit that the mutt handled himself well with an ax. He never lost his calm, and followed Yugi's silent orders without complaint. After five long, stressful minutes they could see the armored truck's silhouette cutting against the dark cityscape.

"Can't wait to get home." Jonouchi cracked his knuckles, and Seto had to hold his breath to keep from shouting at him. They couldn't afford the noise of Jonouchi's words or joints.

But Yugi patted his knapsack, in which he carried the Tome so that Atem could fight. "We should celebrate. We can finally do something to help everyone. And with the zombies gone, people's obsession with Duel Monsters should fade as well, right?"

"There's no evidence to support that," Seto warned.

"The problem is Shadow Magic. Now that we have the Tome, Atem can undo any spells cast by Kamenwati."

"I still have to translate the pages enough to know how to undo the spells." Atem rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That might take awhile. If what I remember from the Shadow Game made from my memories is correct, even Aknadin had trouble translating the spells."

"Except one," Seto spoke in a quiet voice.

Atem nodded. "Except one."

Yugi rested a hand on Atem's shoulder. "You'll do it. We have faith in you."

Jonouchi nodded. Seto didn't respond outwardly. He also thought Atem would succeed. Not because of faith, but because Atem always succeeded. They reached the van.

Seto looked at the driver. "Any problems?"

"No, sir."

"Then let's go."

He sat up front with the driver in silence while the other three sat in the back and talked about cards. Seto didn't see the point,. He could cancel their mock tournament as soon as Atem sent the dead to their rest, but he supposed they were running on autopilot. Seto watched them in the rear-view mirror. Two guards sat back with them, but the guards stayed silent with their hands on their rifles. Seto's sharp blue eyes studied Atem's reflection. The anti-inflammatory Ishizu gave him brought the swelling down in his mouth and jaw. Besides the cuts and bruises, Atem was his handsome self once again, not that a bruise could truly diminish the austere appeal of his features.

The squeal of slipping tires and a crash brought Seto's attention back to the front of the van. The vehicle stopped. Rain ran thickly down the windshield; the silhouette of a corpse sprawled out against the glass. A small crack snaked across the windshield in front of Seto. Blood, thick and near-black oozed down the glass. At least the impact damaged the creature's skull.

"Is everything okay?" Atem asked from the back of the van.

"Yes," Seto answered, turning to the driver. "Be more careful. Unless you want to walk the rest of the way back in the rain."

"Yes sir," the man said without hesitation, although Seto noticed his hands shook on the wheel.

Seto regretted forcing Mokuba to stay at the mansion. His younger brother was wild, but reliable. They couldn't shake the corpse off of the windshield, so they had to suffer the obtrusion and drive slower than before to compensate for their reduced vision.

* * *

As much as Seto wanted to be home, he winced when everyone started cheering. Anzu asked one thousand questions – mostly about Atem's face - Mai berated Jonouchi for being late, the baby cried, and everyone asked to see the wretched book in Yugi's knapsack. Their prattle dropped dead on their lips when the Tome came out into the light. Seto despised the damn thing; it reminded him of his adopted father somehow. He held his breath until Yugi hid the book again and handed the bag to Atem.

"Mokuba," Seto said.

"What's up, bro?"

Seto reached into his wet shirt pocket and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them to his younger brother. "Leave the back shelf alone. Raid anything else."

Mokuba's eyes lit up. "Are you serious?"

"We're ahead of schedule now. I'll leave you in charge of assessing morale." With that said, Seto went to take a shower and find dry clothes.

* * *

"What are the keys for?" Honda asked.

Mokuba grinned, jingling the keys to draw everyone's attention to him. "These!" he cheered, "are the keys to the liquor cabinet. And, in tradition of Kaiba Corp maintaining superior quality, our 'liquor cabinet' is a three leveled catacomb-style wine cellar. I've never even _seen_ the third level. I'm sure there's a cask of amontillado down there, but if I so much as looked for it before tonight, my brother would have walled me up in the dark to never have been seen again. But tonight – _tonight my friends_ – my gracious brother has given me free reign of almost all his treasures."

"Oh fuck yes." Mai all but moaned at the thought, and Mokuba couldn't help but appreciate the way her cleavage all but burst from her top as she jumped up in celebration.

Anzu chuckled. "See? Even Seto's happy." She rested a hand on her still-flat belly. "Too bad I can't celebrate with everyone."

"That's okay." Shizuka smiled, rocking the baby. "I can't either while I breastfeed."

Yugi frowned. "I won't drink either, Anzu."

"Yugi," Jonouchi and Honda both hissed at the same time.

Shizuka sighed at their boyishness, but Anzu laughed harder. "It's okay, Yugi. It won't be a very good evening if Mai, Jonouchi, and Mokuba have to drink by themselves. You go ahead. That way Honda can drink, too and it can be a decent party."

"I'll have some sparkling water brought to you both in champagne glasses, how 'bout that?" Mokuba asked.

Anzu winked at him. "You grew up to be a classy kid, Mokuba."

"Part of the job." He grabbed Atem's wrist and dragged him out of the room. "C'mon. You can help me carry everything."

"I need to get to my room and see if I can find which spell Kamenwati used to raise the dead."

They were down the hall by that point, feet shuffling across thick, bone and jade colored cashmere rugs. Mokuba snorted. "Yes, I know you're eager to get back to my brother's room, but this will only take a minute."

Atem cleared his throat, visibly distressed by Mokuba's comment.

"Oh stop it. Everyone knows, even Jonouchi figured that one out and you know how dense he is. Nobody cares. This isn't ancient Egypt."

"Modern Japan wasn't much more progressive if my memory serves me correctly."

"Well, fuck it. This is the Kaiba mansion where nobody gives a shit." He sighed. "Honestly, I'm glad you're back. Seto sitting in a dark office like some Gothic poet and being in love with a ghost wasn't healthy for him at all, and I was getting worried about him long before zombies started eating people."

"Kisara isn't a ghost, Mokuba. She's in Aaru."

Mokuba waved Atem's explanation away. They stopped in front of two huge, white oak doors. "Ah! The moment of truth."

He used the first key to open the doors, stepping inside with Atem beside him. The first level was a standard wine cellar. Cedar racks lined the walls, dark colored bottles each tucked into their own cubby with cream and white labels showing. To their right, casks of aged oak sat in groups, basic white oak, Slovenian oak, Hungarian oak, each labeled by the forests the various woods came from and the types of wines themselves. Mokuba walked past it all with hardly a glance. Everything on the racks and in the casks were business wines, polite drinks for settling minor business deals, nothing worth a celebration.

They walked to the back of the room where a set of stairs descended deeper into the floor. Before them, shelf after shelf lay burdened with bottles. Tall and squat bottles, smooth round bottles, sharp cut square bottles, opaque brown, translucent green, or transparent clear glass bottles, bottles with gold foil pressed into the labels, and bottles with tassels tied around their neck, the cellar was an apothecary shop pulled from a fantasy novel and made real.

"Impressive." Atem grinned as he scanned the collection.

Light fixtures on the walls provided soft, ambient light around the room and the various glass glinted from the light. Not a speck of dust tarnished the glass or the shelves on which they rested.

Mokuba shrugged. "This is the shit you can find in a liquor store. We're headed lower."

At the bottom of the second stairwell stood another door. Mokuba used the second key on the ring to open the single door and let himself and Atem inside.

"It's small," Atem said.

Mokuba displayed his hands in a helpless gesture. "Quality over quantity. Come here."

They walked a few meters to the back of the quaint room.

Atem wagged a finger at Mokuba. "I'm pretty sure I heard Seto telling you to leave the back shelf alone."

Mokuba nodded. "Most of the bottles on this shelf are the last of their kind. I could crash three Porsches and Seto would forgive me, but he'd cut off my hand if I ever messed with his personal collection. Back when the world was every-day the value of these went beyond currency and into pure status." He grinned, gesturing to the shelf as if offering it to Atem. "Pick something."

"I'd rather not have Seto chop off my hands. I use those for card games."

"He'd chop off _my_ hand. He'll indulge you."

"Not sure I'm brave enough to test that theory, Mokuba."

"It has to be drunk sooner or later. Otherwise, my brother will have the the world's most impressive vinegar collection." Mokuba nudged Atem's shoulder with his own elbow. "Take a look. I'm off to raid the vodka."

* * *

The bottles did look tempting. He couldn't read a single label, either because age faded the labels beyond use, or because the characters printed on them were from countries Atem never knew existed when he lived in Egypt.

A solid, black bottle caught his eye. The only thing that remained from the label was the suggestion of a square on the glass. A strange, wax seal kept the cork protected from the elements and from allowing air to ruin the quality of the drink. Atem picked it up, watching the way the lights played off of the hand-blown glass.

"Oh good, you found something," Mokuba said.

Atem turned to look at Seto's little brother. He looked messy as always with his shirt untucked and no tie. His unruly hair being pulled back didn't stop loose strands from falling into his eyes. The boy, truly a man, but Atem had trouble _not_ picturing the little Mokuba he knew ten years ago, looked sheepish with two bottles of clear vodka and a golden bottle of something else with a damaged label.

"I wasn't going to take it," Atem murmured.

"Yes you are."

With that, the conversation ended and Atem found himself carrying the bottle back up the stairs with him. He and Mokuba parted ways, Mokuba singing some now-old Rica Masumoto song that was popular back when Atem shared Yugi's body.

Atem stopped by the kitchen for a pail of ice, and by the time he returned to his room, Seto had converted their bed into a desk, papers scattered across both sides. Seto didn't look up from his work, but he did address Atem. "Get out of those wet clothes before you get sick."

"Yes, dear," Atem said, his tone mocking his words.

"So what do you have in your hand?"

"Why don't you look up from all your paperwork and see for yourself?"

The sharp blue of Seto's eyes flicked up at Atem for a brief, whip-crack moment before going back to his paperwork. "It was a rhetorical question."

Atem set the ice-bucket down on the nightstand. He fluffed his hair in his reflection of the dark bottle before asking. "Am I in trouble for taking it?"

A wry grin slipped across Seto's lips. "Would you like to be?"

"Perhaps." He unbuttoned his shirt. "But first a hot shower. I'm sore."

"I imagine."

Atem smirked. "It was almost worth it. To see you look so concerned."

"Didn't I tell you to change out of those wet clothes?"

"Oh yes, I do believe I remember you demanding that I strip naked. It's a bad habit of yours."

Atem went to shower before he and Seto wasted another half hour bantering. The hot water stung his lip and jaw, but if felt miraculous. Atem dried himself and dressed in a bathrobe before returning to their bed. He noticed that Seto cleared away the paper work – at least enough for Atem to have his own side of the bed.

"You know you're a fool." Seto shook his head. "You didn't bring a corkscrew or glasses."

Atem set Yugi's backpack onto his lap, staring at the denim. He reached for the drawstring to open the bag and realized his hands shook.

"I hate it as well," Seto confessed, his tone neutral. He stood up, grabbing the wine and examining it. "Good choice."

"I liked the bottle," Atem confessed as he fumbled to pull the book from the backpack. Atem heard the pop of a wine cork. He looked up, and Seto stood pouring two glasses. "Where did you get the glasses?"

"The kitchen." Seto handed Atem the stem of one of the two glasses.

Atem held the glass absently in his right hand as his left hand brushed against the Eye of Ra on the book's cover. Remembering the burn of that power searing on his own forehead, Atem closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and downed the wine like it was a shot of whiskey. He pushed the glass towards Seto; it shook in his fingers. "I know that was a waste," he muttered.

Seto blinked at the empty glass, pulling it from Atem's fingers, setting it off to the side, and holding Atem's trembling hand. "It was only priceless."

"I'm sorry. I know everything from that collection is precious to you, but my nerves are shot."

Seto smiled, running long, slender fingers through his shag of brown hair. "You're not as hopeless as you used to be. There was a time you'd feel entitled to the wine, and entitled to drink it as you please, without so much as a second thought."

Atem raised an eyebrow. His hands felt a little more steady with the warm, smooth drink in his stomach. "Well, _you_ never smiled before. Not like you do now."

Seto blinked his ice-blue eyes, as if he hadn't realized the expression on his own face. He snorted, taking his own glass and tilting the liquid in the glass so that he and Atem could both admire the deep, near black color of the red-violet liquid. "It's not like when we were in Egypt and wine was drank with every meal. You don't drink a wine like this – you experience it."

He swirled the dense liquid in his glass, holding the rim below Atem's nose. "Inhale."

A faint, electric rush always coursed through Atem's system when Seto gave him simple commands, and he obeyed. It wasn't always easy, being the embodiment of a god to the people he ruled, being the embodiment of a hero to his friends, only in Seto – who revered neither gods nor heroes – had Atem ever found a real equal.

Seto pulled the glass away so he could also enjoy the rich scent. He offered the glass to Atem once more. "Sip."

Atem opened his mouth, taking a taste from the glass and rolling the liquid over his entire tongue. The faintest, tart hint of cherries lingered in his mouth.

Seto drank as well. "Younger, the cherry note would have been more pronounced," he explained while giving Atem another chance at the glass. "Now slurp it into your mouth."

This time Atem paused. He eyed Seto with a suspicious frown, as if the former C.E.O. was trying to trick Atem into being foolish somehow.

Seto only grinned. "Like this." Seto demonstrated. Atem expected a loud slurping sound, but Seto did no such thing. "The oak cask adds a touch of vanilla flavor, but you need bring air into your mouth with the wine to fully enjoy it."

Atem copied Seto and took another drink. He wasn't sure he tasted anything different, but his hands didn't shake anymore as they held the book, so he was thankful for the lesson nonetheless. With a sigh, Atem opened the book. The symbols written in rusty, red-brown ink resembled hieratic, but he didn't recognize a single character.

Atem trailed along the lines of writing. Similar to when he saw the scars on Marik's back, Atem felt an impression of the spells rather than a translation. It wasn't enough to decipher them, but what he did sense caused tears to roll down his tanned cheeks. "Everything in the book . . . is horrible. Gods, Seto, it's so horrible. How did Aknadin ever think good would come from anything in here?"

Seto shook his head. He looked aged in that moment, crows feet sketched in the corners of his eyes and frown lines burdening his mouth.

Atem swallowed, flipping through page after page. Each one brought dread, terror, despair . . . above all else it brought despair, but it also brought a deep, unwanted, quivering lust for more. Then he understood the danger in even translating the book. Each new line his fingers grazed made him want to hurt a little deeper inside. Like a depression he couldn't shake, and he drowned in thoughts he _knew_ couldn't be true, or him, but they lingered in his mind all the same, caressing, holding, strangling.

And, for a disgusting moment, he thought perhaps he could harness it, control it. He was god, was he not? Osiris made flesh and resurrected from the dead to rule as a king even among gods. Perhaps, with the _right_ spell, if he just kept searching, he'd find a way to translate the book, and with the _right_ spell he could—

Atem's thoughts broke when Seto kissed him – Seto who didn't reverie or even concern himself with gods. Whatever dark spell whispered around the edges of Atem's thoughts broke and broke hard, leaving Atem a shaking, powerless, mortal.

"You started crying," Seto whispered. "Not only tears, but actual sobs, like you were in pain."

"I can't do this."

Seto held both sides of Atem's face. The sharp blue of his eyes more piercing than Atem could remember. Seto tilted Atem's face up. "Yes you can. You were brought back to do this."

"I'm not . . . I'm not strong enough. This book will consume me."

Seto swung himself on top of Atem, straddling him. "Then you go walk into the game room right now where everyone is celebrating and tell them that right now."

Atem slammed the book shut glaring at Seto. "You know I'd never do that. You _know_ Yugi would take the book and try himself – even if it destroyed his soul."

"Yes. I'm aware."

"Dammit, Seto." Atem smacked the book back open, but this time he was determined. He still felt the influence of the damned book clawing at his mind and at his throat, but it didn't enthrall him.

After a few minutes Atem felt Seto's hand brush tears off of his cheek.

"Was I crying again?"

Seto shrugged, still nestled over Atem's body. "Tears, but no sobs."

Atem's plum eyes flicked down to the symbols written in the Tome, then back up to Seto's living, blazing eyes. "Seto, if I get lost, will you—"

Seto interrupted with another kiss. "Drag your ass back to reality? I'm sure I could manage."

* * *

 *****LOL - I don't even like this ship.*****


	26. Chapter 25

*****Disclaimer: Peachshipping Lemon (mild) . . . I don't even know why it's there. Yugi was drunk – blame him not me.*****

 *****Almost forgot to post this (ooops).*****

* * *

Yugi watched Mokuba slam the bottles on the table one at a time. "We have vodka. Vodka. Vodka. Aaaand – absinthe."

Yugi picked up the bottle of absinthe, squinting at the label. "Con-Constan . . ."

"Constant Farcat. That's the name of the distiller. The drink itself is _Absinthe La Constantine._ This is the only known, undamaged bottle. I thought it'd be fun to try . . . we may hallucinate."

"Hallucinate?" Yugi set the bottle down like it was poison.

Mokuba shrugged. "It's made with wormwood. Don't worry, I was mostly joking about the hallucinating part. We'll be fine."

"I've always wanted to try it." Mai drummed her fingers on the top of the card table to demonstrate her impatience.

"What game are we going to play?" Jonouchi asked.

They always played a drinking game when they had parties . . . they always had. It amazed Yugi that, no matter how much time had passed, he still thought of the pre-zombie days as if they were a few months ago, and that things could go back to the way they were any day. Yugi smiled to himself because, for the first time since the beginning, there was some hope of that.

He wanted to check on Atem, to see how his studies of the Tome were going, but he didn't want to break Atem's concentration – or walk in on a friend during a make-out session two times in one day. Either way, Yugi figured Atem deserved some alone time.

He noticed Anzu's hand waving in front of his face. "Hey, don't zone out before you've had your first drink."

Yugi blinked. "Sorry. Daydreaming. What game?"

"FUBAR," Honda answered.

"Okay," Yugi said as if he could remember the game. He couldn't. He knew different cards allotted different drinks, and that queens meant that ladies drank, but that was it. "Um . . . is someone going to write down the rules?"

"On it," Mai spoke, already jotting down what each card did. "It's been a while. What I can't remember, I'm making up."

"Don't make us puke, babe," Jo said.

"No promises." She looked up, setting down the pen and glancing at everyone around the table. "Keep in mind that we haven't had time for drunken parties during the zombie apocalypse, so you might want to take it a little slow."

"Just give me all the drinks. I don't think I can overdose on sparkling water." Shizuka smiled.

"I don't know." A wicked grin crossed Jo's expression. "This is our first time drinking with Mokuba. I think we need to officially initiate him into our little group."

Honda's face matched Jonouchi's. "That's right. We never really had a chance to drink with Mokuba before."

Mokuba leaned back in his chair, combing his goatee with his fingers. "Yes. Sweet little Mokuba – that's me. I'll accept any drinking challenge you give me _if_ whoever issues the challenge matches it."

Jonouchi and Honda high-fived. Mai sighed and cradled her chin in her hand. "You better get some buckets, because these two morons are going to vomit before the night ends."

Yugi laughed when Mokuba called in a servant and had them return with half a dozen cleaning pails. He vowed internally not to get that trashed. Anzu couldn't drink, and therefore Yugi didn't want to get stupid drunk. He just needed to make a show of drinking so Jonouchi and Honda could have fun.

They had orange juice, fresh squeezed from orchards grown on site, and Mai voted herself bartender as she mixed screwdrivers for all the drinkers. At the same time, Mokuba poured glasses of absinthe mixed with some water for drinking.

"No sugar guys, sorry."

Mai snickered, muttering under her breath. "Sugar cubes are for pussies, let them drink it like men."

Yugi gave his two glasses a nervous stare. They looked beautiful, the screwdriver a brilliant orange and the absinthe more gold than pale green, but Yugi wasn't sure how hard they'd hit him. Yugi picked up the absinthe and took a tentative sip. It burned, of course. That part didn't bother him, but the liquor carried a strong aftertaste of anise, so Yugi didn't care for it. He swallowed a second drink nonetheless, so Jonouchi and Honda wouldn't be disappointed. It was hard not to wince each time he took a sip and he found himself chasing the absinthe with the better-tasting screwdriver before he realized they hadn't even started playing yet, and he needed to slow down.

Jonouchi shuffled the cards. He sat to Yugi's left, and when he finished, he gave Yugi a playful elbow to the ribs. "You go first, Yug."

Yugi drew the ten of hearts.

Mokuba laughed. "You would. Okay everyone, bottoms up."

Everyone at the table took a gulp from their glasses, most of absinthe although Anzu and Shizuka drank water. Yugi drank from his screwdriver, hoping that a few rounds of play would make the absinthe taste better.

Anzu drew next, pulling an 8 of diamonds from the deck. "I don't remember what eight was for."

Mai glanced at her list. "Categories."

"Oh, um . . . flowers?"

Everyone gave an example, roses, tsubaki, sakura, lilies, amaririsu, sweet pea. When they got to Jonouchi, he scratched his head and pursed his lips trying to think.

"Uh, there's . . . dammit, Shizuka, why'd you have to say roses? That was the one I was going to use."

"I like them." She stuck her tongue out at Jonouchi.

"Three seconds," Mokuba warned.

"A ficus!" Jo shouted in a rush to say the first thing that came to mind.

"That's a plant, not a flower, you moron." Honda shook his head.

"Hey! I was under pressure."

Mai winked at him. "Take a drink, babe."

"Yugi hasn't answered yet."

Yugi blinked for a moment, too entertained by the talking. "Daffodils."

"Dammit." Jonouchi tilted back his glass of absinthe.

Shizuka drew a jack so the guys had to drink. Then Honda drew a jack from a different suit so the guys had to drink again. Yugi tried the absinthe again. It still tasted awful, but he managed not to wince. The game went on. Each time it passed back to Yugi for a new round, it seemed like their laughter grew louder. Yugi watched as Mokuba drew a four.

He grinned and looked at Mai. "Hey Mai, do you remember what four means?"

"Are you implying that I don't?"

"Would I ever imply such a thing?" Mokuba asked.

Mai snorted. "Are Kaibas even capable of anything short of direct conversation?"

"Would you ever rig a card game by marking cards with perfume?"

"Would it help me win?"

Mokuba tsk-tsked. "Isn't that cheating?"

"Is it my fault men are too stupid to notice?"

"Do you dress like that to ensure men are too stupid to notice?"

Mai laughed a moment. "Would you believe that I think my breasts are awesome and I dress like this for myself?"

Mokuba laughed as well. "I'd only believe that because _you're_ the one saying it." He took a drink since he didn't answer Mai's question with a question.

Jonouchi scowled. "I wasn't too stupid to notice. I called you out on that stupid trick."

"That stupid trick fed me when I hustled cards for money." Mai pushed Jo's bangs into his eyes. "And yes, you did catch that trick, and I married you, so there you go."

Jonouchi grinned. "I won that game, too."

"If you want to win the marriage game, you might want to not rub your victories in your wife's face." Yugi shook his head. Yugi stared at his empty glasses, trying to think of something that swished in the back of his inebriated mind. "Mai!" Yugi shouted once the thought came to him.

She jumped in her chair a little at the sound of his voice. "What'd I do?"

"No, nothing." Yugi shook his head, laughing. He stood up in his excitement, resting his hands on the card table and leaning across Jonouchi to get a better look at Mai. "I just remembered – Bakura's seen Ryo."

"Get the fuck out!" Mai jumped up, mimicking Yugi's leaning posture. Jonouchi had to lean back to keep from getting bumped by either of them. "Are you serious?"

"Yes!" Yugi cheered.

Mai squealed in drunken happiness. She grabbed Yugi and hugged him across from the table, and then pushed him away to dab at her eyes. "Dammit, Yug. Don't give me news like that when I'm drunk. It makes me emotional."

"I told you he was okay. _I told you._ "

Jonouchi snorted, crossing his arms. "I don't see how's he's okay. If he's hanging around Marik's other half."

Mai dropped into her chair, face white. "Wait . . . what? I'm sorry, I'm drunk and didn't hear that right."

"Yes you did. Marik's crazy, psychotic other half," Jo said.

"How, how is that even possible?"

"The gods brought him back, too." Yugi finished the last of his vodka to punctuate his sentence. "And you know what I think? _I_ think Ryo and Kek – Kek is Marik's other half – I think they're the angels."

"Sweetie?" Anzu asked.

"The angels!" Yugi insisted. His hair messier than usual and falling into his eyes. Yugi pushed his bangs away, gesturing with his hands. "Remember, Mai? That old woman said two angels were killing the dead. Why else would the gods bring Marik's other half back if not to kill things? And that music we heard when we came here. That was Zilch; Ryo loves Hide."

"Well . . . yeah," Mai muttered, still pale. "But I don't see Ryo killing anyone, dead or otherwise. Remember when we found him? He wouldn't even scavenge. He curled in a ball and cried."

"So did I," Shizuka confessed with a frown, "but that was in the beginning. We were all soft in the beginning. I can't even count how many people I've killed since then."

" _Zombies_ ," Honda said the word with emphasis. "They're not people. Not anymore."

" _I_ think they're still people." She stood up. "I'm going to feed the baby."

"Let me help." Anzu stood up as well. "I can't wait until I'm feeding my own baby."

Shizuka smiled. "Come on, Anzu. You can help me burp him."

"Thanks, I can use all the practice I can get."

Yugi smiled as he watched Anzu go. Her body looked lithe and perfect in her jeans and tank-top, but Yugi couldn't wait until she was wearing maternity clothes to accommodate her swelling belly.

"Quit staring at my sister-in-law's ass, Yugi," Mai teased.

He started. "What? I was staring at Anzu's ass!" After realizing what he'd said, Yugi sputtered. "Um-I-I mean I was thinking about her burping the baby."

Everyone laughed. Jonouchi started scooping the scattered cards into a pile. "Let's play a different game."

* * *

"One step at a time, Yugi."

Yugi leaned against Anzu's shoulder, half nuzzling her and half using her as a crutch. "You smell so nice."

"Mmm-hmm. A few more steps and then we can get your drunk ass in bed."

"Where you'll take advantage of me in my weak, drunken state, right?"

"Oh sure." Anzu giggled. "Until you pass out. I give you two minutes."

"No it's okay. I made sure I didn't drink as much as Jonouchi, so I'm fine."

Anzu's giggles turned into open laughter. "Last I saw of poor Jonouchi he was throwing up into a bucket."

"He should have known better than to double fist drinks with Mokuba."

"I agree, but you know, maybe he wouldn't have done it if you and Honda hadn't cheered him on while screaming that you believe in him."

"Did . . . we actually do that?"

"You sure did."

Anzu stopped in front of a dark, mahogany door. She helped Yugi into the room, and helped him out of his clothes. Yugi kissed her neck and tried to slip off her shirt, but she held his hands.

"But Anzu." Yugi blinked his eyes. "How can you resist me? I'm too cute to say no to."

She looked at him, her eyes narrow and her mouth twisted in thought. Her lips relaxed into a pretty smile. "Okay, but you better not pass out drunk until it's over."

Yugi laughed, although he couldn't tell if she was teasing him or serious. He seemed to float three inches above the floor as he tugged Anzu's tank top off of her body and lathered her collarbone with sloppy kisses. They stumbled over to the bed and fell on top of the mattress. Yugi shimmied off Anzu's tight jeans and black thong. He kissed along her hips, listening to the music of her sighs. His lips trailed up her belly, pausing to give Anzu's stomach a few extra kisses.

He looked up from her stomach, and they smiled at one another – she sober and he drunk, but that didn't stop them from communicating through their expressions.

The world became a bright-lit vodka carousel. Everything spinning and everything butterscotch-sweet, especially the note of pleasure that Anzu sang when Yugi slipped inside her. Her breasts bounced and the bed squeaked and she called Yugi's name louder than what was polite in a house full of people, but the screwdrivers and absinthe had Yugi lost in a current of alcohol-induced giddiness, so he couldn't feel self-consciousness.

When her hands found his ass, Yugi submitted and let her set a hard, shallow pace.

"Anzu," Yugi whispered into her breast, her chest tight with strain.

He felt her tighten around him, hands tightening around his ass, feminine heat tightening around his need. Yugi panted, procrastinating his own release until he felt her shudder. He watched her face, eyes shut, mouth in a cute O. He never tired of watching her face. He pressed a kiss into her breasts, and then into her throat, and then he hid his face in her hair as his world exploded into pleasure.

He lay beside her, smelling her hair and tracing his fingers across her breast. "Love you."

"I love you, too." She sighed, content and closing her eyes. She grabbed his hand and rested it against her stomach, and that's how they fell asleep.

When Yugi woke up again, it was a quarter before 5 a.m. He wiggled out of bed, throwing on his jeans and t-shirt from the floor. Yugi stumbled to the bathroom first, and then to the kitchen to get water. After drinking, Yugi decided the cool, post-storm, early morning air would clear his head so he snuck outside.

Atem sat on the brick border of a flower bed. The silk robe and moonlight made Atem look like a ghost. He held a cigarette between his fingers, a thin ribbon of smoke curling above his head.

"I didn't know you smoked," Yugi said.

Atem jerked a glance behind his shoulder, noticing Yugi. "Shit," he muttered, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it out with his bare heel. He winced as the cherry burned his skin.

"When did you start?"

Atem exhaled smoke, a guilty look on his face. "Three thousand years ago."

Yugi frowned. "But tobacco was originally grown in the Americas."

"Boats, Yugi."

"But Egypt didn't trade with – oh what do I know." He forfeited the conversation, choosing to instead find a chair and sit across from his old friend. "Why are you outside?"

"Seto won't let me smoke in our room."

Yugi started laughing, louder than he wanted to. "That's so cute!"

Atem raised an eyebrow. "Yugi? Are you still drunk?"

Now it was Yugi's turn to look guilty. "A little bit. That's why I came outside for some fresh air."

"I heard it was a fun party."

"Yeah, I think everyone had fun." Yugi nodded.

"Sorry I missed it, but I wanted to study the Tome."

"That's more important." Yugi frowned. "So . . .?"

"The spell is on the last page . . . I scanned the whole book."

"You found it? Already?"

Atem held up his hands to slow Yugi's train of thought. "I don't have it translated yet. I . . . I can sense the nature of the spells, elements or factors in each, but it'll still take me awhile to know enough to undo the spell that's raising and controlling the dead."

"But still, that's amazing – that you've already found which spell." Yugi sighed. "I can't wait. I can't wait until this is over. I know things won't go back to the way they were before, but at least we can clean-up and start over without worrying about losing any more friends."

"Yeah," Atem murmured, gaze off in a far away direction.

"Atem? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Yugi leaned forward, frowning at his friend. "Hey, hiding cigarettes is one thing, but don't lie about important things."

Atem watched Yugi in silence, purple striking purple. Atem reached into the pocket of his robe and fished out another cigarette and a lighter. "Is it okay?"

Yugi nodded. "If it helps you tell me what's on your mind."

Atem lit his smoke, closing his eyes for half a moment as he exhaled. "That book steals something from you when you read it."

"What do you mean?"

"It's . . . hard to explain. It . . . _takes_ from you. It . . . consumes you. It should have been destroyed thousands of years ago."

"Shadow Magic isn't that easy to destroy."

"You're right, but I regret that book ever belonged to my family." Atem sucked fire and smoke from his cigarette and looked up at the stars. "I found the spell that created the Items."

"Yeah." Yugi looked away, as if the conversation was too painful for either of them to look at each other. "Ninety-nine sacrifices, right? I didn't see that part, back then, in the game, because I was searching for your name, but Ryo told me once."

"Yes. Ninety-nine sacrifices . . . and seven days."

"Seven days?" Yugi glanced at Atem's profile.

Atem nodded. "Yes, that's how long the spell takes. All the sacrifices have to die slowly . . ." Atem's eyes wandered across the heavens. His face looked lost and betrayed as he thought on his own words. "And he would have seen all of that. Each slow death. Each destroyed soul. Seto's right – I'm a self-entitled fuck. I never even asked him about it, Yugi. I never asked his side. I assumed they were thieves and that killing them was justice and that he was a villain."

"Who?" Yugi asked. Atem mentioned Seto, but Yugi knew that " _he"_ was referring to someone else.

"Bakura. Bakura saw everything, and he was only a little child, younger than that girl tagging along with him. For seven days he would have watched as Aknadin destroyed his entire world."

"You didn't know," Yugi whispered, suddenly far too sober as he sat beneath the stars and moonlight.

"But I could have known. Twice, twice he tried to show me. In Egypt and in the Dark Game."

They sat without speaking, crickets filling the air with sound. Everything Yugi thought up to say to cheer his friend up sounded like an excuse. "Well." Yugi sighed. "When this is over, you should apologize."

"That would be three-thousand years too late and not enough even then."

"I know, and Bakura will know, but regardless, it's your duty. You were the Pharaoh. You still represent Osiris." Yugi stared at his bare feet. "Well, I guess I should apologize, too. I'm your successor."

Atem snorted. "He'll just punch me again. He'd probably punch you, too."

Yugi shrugged. "Then he punches us. Bruises heal."

Atem laughed, humorless and thin. "You're so kind. That somehow makes me feel better . . . after reading that cruel book." Atem stood up. "We should probably go back inside."

Yugi stood up as well. "Go ahead, I want to walk to the koi pond and back before I go back to sleep."

Atem nodded, a smile fighting on his lips. "Okay. Yugi?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, for listening. It helped."

"You really should quit, you know. Cigarettes are bad for you – and when this is all over and settled, you and I need to have a talk about trade and travel in ancient Egypt, because I think all the books are wrong."

"They probably are." Atem smiled. "Goodnight."

Yugi grabbed Atem in a hug. He was self-consciousness, sticky from drinking and sex, but Atem looked like he needed a hug.

His bare feet found the pond, last night's rain clinging to the grass and tickling his feet. The pond had become his favorite place to think. He and Anzu often sat on a blanket and watched the fish, thinking about what to name the baby growing inside of her. A smooth ripple broke the surface of the water, but it was too dark to see the golden orange and black fish clustered beneath. He took a deep breath of cold, pre-dawn air. The dew, and fresh air, and silent shushing of a breeze through the leaves, helped Yugi clear his head and rejoin the sober world.

However, the hair on Yugi's neck prickled as an unknown voice spoke behind him. "With your group, there are seventy-six people living here. A shame there weren't a few more."

Yugi saw the man's reflection in the pond. Scars scattered across his wrinkled face and a brown hood covered most of his iron gray hair. "Whatever you want – it's too late. You've lost."

He grinned. It looked almost tender as he watched Yugi. "No. I haven't lost yet. I have you."

Yugi spun around, narrowing his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You have the Tome, but I still control the dead. It would be a shame, wouldn't it? If every single corpse in Domino City suddenly decided to attack Mr. Kaiba's mansion? How long do you think that gate would last against that many all attacking at once?"

"What do you want?" Yugi spoke low, more threatening than his friends would have ever guessed possible.

"All I want is for you to come with me."

"How do I know you won't take me and then attack them anyway?"

"Because that's not the plan."

"And what is the plan?"

His smile returned. He reminded Yugi too much of his first-year history teacher and it somehow made the encounter surreal. "Will you follow me?"

Yugi sighed. He glanced through the trees, at the mansion where Anzu slept and dreamed about the baby growing inside of her. He turned back to Kamenwati and nodded.


	27. Chapter 26

Kek sucked in a deep breath of air. Everything smelled sweet, rain, sun, and wet dirt all mixed together. His blades flashed bright yellow as the sun glided across the steel, and the weight of them felt right and good in his hands, an extension of himself. The muscles in his thighs flexed beneath his skin which had darkened to the color of well done toast from his time outside killing the dead – although Ryo stayed as porcelain white as ever. Occasionally his skin would burn, but the next day the red would fade to pink, and a day after he'd be pale as before.

Two strips of black cloth fluttered in the breeze around his legs. In the streets he fought in snug boxer briefs. The blood and gore clung thickly to him after multiple slaughters and any outfit donned would be unfit for wearing afterward. However, for the stadium he had decided to wear a simple black dress with a plunging neckline to show off his chest and the fabric slit up the sides to expose his legs. He wore it because he liked the way the material tossed about in the wind and as he moved. It reminded him of his cape, only more practical for fighting.

The music blared from every direction. Kek stood in the center of the stadium, of his obstacle course, waiting for the first moan to signal the beginning of the slaughter. He wasn't sure where Ryo was, but he knew his milk-pale lover patrolled somewhere around the perimeter. Ryo didn't have the patience to wait. He wanted to clog the entrances with corpses, forcing those in the back to crawl over the first wave and thus become vulnerable to attack. The hunt did not thrill Ryo, the sport did not stir in him the same joy it did in Kek. Ryo preferred strategy, precision, efficiency, only then was he happy.

More than anything else, Kek enjoyed the movement. It took skill to crack a skull just so and damage the brain, and when the music thrummed deep inside him, and the sun licked his body and left trails of sweat dripping down his collarbone – Kek was free.

And alive.

Before, he only wanted to exist.

Now, he wanted to live.

He didn't want to be a scythe.

He wanted to be a person.

He'd give up killing both the living and the dead if he could stay alive instead of going back to the gods after the Pharaoh restored balance.

There were other ways to move.

Katas, and games of tag, and making love in the rain.

There were so many ways to move that didn't involve the stink of blood or the crack of bones.

He wanted to live . . . he wanted to be a person.

But he was a scythe, an object with an utilitarian purpose and nothing more.

The sound of groans reached Kek's ears. His eyes stayed closed, his body relaxed. He waited until the sounds drew close, and only then did he open his eyes and attack. The gray, fermenting corpse reaching for Kek's face fell to the ground after a hard crack to the skull. A thin line of zombies trickled in through the four entrances. Ryou guarded the west gate, exactly as Kek had predicted, clogging the doorway with corpses and keeping the odds in his meticulous favor.

He spread his arms out for a moment like wings, savoring the moment. As another cluster neared, Kek ran to greet them with steel and final rest. He leapt over a corpse, landing and rolling to another, cutting tendons to disable the cadaver before busting its head open and watching the filth tumble to the ground below. He back flipped and struck two more, one with each kukri, and then half-turned for a third kill.

Two more grabbed for Kek, pulling at the skirt of his dress. He grinned, attacking while the copses clawed at fabric instead of him – one of the reasons he wore the outfit. What became an encumbrance while escaping, served Kek as an asset while he attacked.

He elbowed a zombie in the jaw, breaking it, and killed six more before putting the first one out of its misery. The press grew thick where Kek stood, so he swung on a rope from one section to another, forcing the mob to change direction in order to chase him. He caught a quick breath, watching corpses tumble into dugouts filled with homemade spikes as they clambered over each other trying to reach him. He frowned at how quickly the pits filled. They should have dug them deeper, but Kek had been impatient. He didn't, however, have time to ponder it as corpse after corpse stumbled towards him, begging for his blades in their skulls.

He didn't realize the passage of time until he saw an arrow take a half-eaten corpse down. Kek grinned. If Ryo had switched to arrows, that meant it was time to set the pits on fire. Each one had a fuse rigged to chemical containers Ryo set up while Kek dug the holes. He didn't know how his sweet, delicate lover learned to make chemical incinerators, and he didn't ask – he merely loved Ryo all the more for having, and using, the information.

He reached into his left kukri sheath where he kept a silver zippo lighter. Kek sprinted to each hole, slaughtering as many corpses as he could along the way. He lit the first one and used a rope to swing away. That was an important step . . . getting the fuck away. Each pit exploded more than ignited. Black smoke pushed up in a fat column and random bits of used-to-be-people dropped from the sky and bounced on the ground.

The throng of dead didn't look impressed by the fireworks, but Kek laughed high-pitched and mad into the air at the sight. He was going to rub Ryo's feet as a reward for his secret evil genius. Kek had to fight his way to the second pit, and the explosion and resulting fire was more glorious than the first time. He heard whistling and clapping from above, Ryo cheering him on. Kek blew him a kiss and killed more zombies before making his way to the third pit.

* * *

 _Dear Amane,_

 _It's always amazing to watch Kek fight. He dances through the corpses and leaves a trail of bodies behind him. He's so fast. It_ _makes my eyes water when I watch him. It's like Sekhmet herself incarnated into a human body – his hair even looks like a lion's, and he used to wear the Eye of Ra on his forehead, so he really does remind me of Sekhmet. I guess that would make Marik Bastet. I should tell that to Bakura, apparently he has some ongoing joke about Marik being a princess. I don't get how it started, but I know he keeps it going because he thinks Marik's cute when he's screaming mad. Seriously, Amane, out of all the people in Aaru to talk to you picked him? I worry about you._

 _The ground's so thick with bodies that Kek's having to fight on the planks and ramps now. The zombies don't care, they just crawl over the bodies and chase him, and he adds them to the pile. The fires are smoky now, they're being suffocated by bodies – I told him to dig those pits deeper, but he was in too much of a rush to listen to me._

 _I can't even imagine how there's still corpses left in Domino. I know the population of Domino was huge, but it seems like he would have killed them all by now. A few more are still staggering through the gates. Not as many as this morning, though._

 _Don't worry about me. I'm in a little crow's nest beneath a shaded cover. The gods didn't create me as a weapon of slaughter, so I quit after a few hours. My arrows are all lost now. I usually gather them off of the corpses after the fighting is over, but when I scan the bodies I can't see a single fletching or cock feather poking out from the mass grave below. I'll keep the bow in case I find some extra ones. Market Town has a few fletchers, but everyone's too busy getting ready for the big tournament next week to be trading._

 _I guess I should talk about something other than zombies, and death courses, and weapons, but . . . it's what consumes the day. That's why I stopped writing. I never wanted you to worry. I just feel bad when all I can fill a letter with is a body count._

 _When we're done, Kek's supposed to take me out on a date. There's that. I insisted that we go to a classy French restaurant so I can order consomme, any main dish covered in a heavy cream sauce, and a figurative mountain of profiterole – or one the size of a mountain. Too bad such a restaurant no longer exists. Then again, if it did, we might not be able to eat there. It was hard enough just being gay and going on dates before the zombie apocalypse, and that was with guys wearing pants. I can see me having to get into fist fights now, and we'd probably get kicked out of anywhere nice._

 _Well, that wasn't any better. Sorry, Amane, I'm just not good with letters anymore._

 _What we'll actually do is probably walk around. We had a storm last night so the weather is beautiful today. Without so many humans polluting the sky, there are more stars than we ever saw when we were kids. Kek likes stargazing. He gets childishly excited about constellations. I guess because Marik lived underground as a child, so Kek did as well, sort of. Maybe we'll sleep on a rooftop tonight under the stars. I think Kek might like that. They say there's stars in the Duat, but what about Aaru? Do you still get to see the stars? Are they the same, or do you have entirely different constellations to stare at?_

 _You know, you should really write back once in awhile. It's not fair that I have to do all the work._

 _Guess that's the job as the big brother, right?_

 _I miss you. Tell mom and dad I miss them, too._

 _~Love, Ryo._

* * *

Ryo heard Kek climbing up to the crow's nest just as he was finishing his letter. He set down his pen and peered over the platform. "Kek! Are you okay? You look pale. Where's your dress?"

Ryo reached out a hand and pulled Kek up to the top. Kek wore shoes, boxers, his belts with his kukris, and a strip of black cloth that once belonged to his dress. As usual, every inch of his skin was coated in congealed blood. He stared down, pulling the last bit of dress away from his belt and tossing it down into the remaining mob. "I . . . don't remember. Everything went red, like a black out, only . . . red."

"Have you been playing with any Millennium Items recently? I always had similar problems when I had the Ring," Ryo tried to tease, but he didn't like the look on Kek's face. He looked ill.

"Hey, Ryo?"

Ryo rested his hand on Kek's cheek. "Yeah?"

"Remember that Plan B you had? The one I made fun of you for having because I was definitely going to kill them all myself?"

Ryo nodded his head.

"Yeah . . . I kinda ran out of room to fight, and it's pretty claustrophobic down there. Want to go to Plan B?"

Ryo couldn't help but grin. He actually liked Plan B. It involved explosives. "Let's rest and then we can go."

Kek shook his head. "Let's just go. The smell is making me sick."

Ryo watched Kek for a moment. The stench was what Ryo imagined hell would smell like – rotting bodies, chemical fires, charred flesh. It not only surrounded the air, but covered Kek's body. However, Kek had never complained about the smell of death before.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. A few scratches, but no bites."

"No, I mean, how sick are you?"

Kek shrugged. "It's nothing I can't handle, but I'd rather wash off and rest."

"Of course." Ryo scooped his letter, pen, and water bottle into his backpack and slung the pack over his shoulder.

He slung his bow behind him, and held his naginata in both hands. A long, wooden beam connected the crow's nest to the wall of the stadium rising above the bleachers. They walked to the edge and stared down at the parking lot below.

"There's not too many in the parking lot." Kek nodded at the miniature zombies stumbling towards the stadium where speakers still blasted metal into the air. "I'll go first." Kek dropped down to the rope ladder they had fastened to the wall's edge.

"Be careful," Ryo said. They had to tie several smaller rope ladders together to make it long enough to reach from the top of the wall to the parking lot.

"There you go, worrying again."

Ryo knelt beside the ladder, the wind blowing his growing white locks into his face. "You should be used to it by now."

"Haven't we already had this argument?"

"More times than I can count."

"Shit, we're turning into our other halves."

Once Kek reached the second section of the ladder, Ryo started climbing down. "Oh come on, we're not nearly that bad."

"True, I can still hear the music."

Ryo laughed. It was a long climb, and by the time he reached the pavement, Kek had dispatched any stray corpses near them.

"Do you have the detonator?" he asked.

"No. I left it in the crow's nest. We'll have to climb all the way back up."

"What?"

Ryo giggled, brandishing a key-chain key for locking and unlocking cars, appropriate since they walked in the stadium's parking lot.

"Oh you bitch," Kek swore. "I'll get you back for that."

"I'm so frightened."

Kek gave Ryo a mock, angry pout, before swapping to a demure smile; however, the blood and reek of zombies ruined his attempts of looking coy. "Hey Ryo . . . will you teach me how to make bombs?"

Ryo snorted and rolled his coffee-brown eyes. "Oh gods no. Teaching you to blow things up would be the most neglectful, irresponsible thing I could do for the world."

"Oh come on! It's not like I can blow people up. I'd cease to exist if I killed anyone."

"There's still no way I'm showing you how to burn things and make them explode. There wouldn't be any buildings left in Domino."

"You're such a kill joy."

Ryo sighed, handing the car clicker to Kek. "Here. I'll let you blow up the stadium. How's that?"

Kek traced his fingers along Ryo's hands. A romantic gesture, if not a little morbid since his fingers left rusted carmine trails of old blood on Ryo's pure white skin.

"How'd you learn all this anyway?"

"I have made some mind-blowing Monster World dioramas with campaigns that had very climactic final bosses. A building is just a model to scale, so rigging this up was a matter of multiplying recipes. See, cooking comes in handy."

"So . . . did you learn it from a book? Could that book be in a library?"

"You're not teaching yourself how to blow things up."

Kek huffed, pouting again. "Fine. Is it time to blow the Kaiba Corp Stadium up yet?"

"No!" Ryo shouted.

His scream drew the attention of a wayward zombie. The thing in a weathered and blood stained business suit had two broken arms and it swayed towards Ryo as if drunk. Ryo swung his naginata and watched the corpse fall to the ground.

"If you press that button now, we're both going to go flying into a wall."

Kek fiddled with the key ring, a child wanting to open his birthday present. "Fine. Fine. Just tell me when."

"When we reach adequate cover."

"You know, in the movies they don't have to find cover. They just walk away with the wind blowing in their hair and the explosion billowing up behind them."

Ryo laughed. "You're so impressionable, like a little child."

Kek smirked. "That makes you a pervert."

Ryo's frowned. "Okay. Bad metaphor."

"That was a simile."

"How do you even know the difference?"

Kek shrugged, pointing to a brick-walled shop across the street from the parking lot. "Is that good enough for cover."

"I hope so. Let's make sure it's clear."

The only thing they found inside the building was concrete and dust. Ryo looked around. "It's good that the windows are already broken. We won't have to worry about glass."

Kek grinned and dangled the key-chain in his hand. "Can I?"

Ryo sat with his back pressed against the wall and his hands over his ears, nodding. Kek jabbed the button with his mid finger. Even with Ryo's ears covered, the sound threatened to split his skull. The roaring noise felt like it stabbed straight into Ryo's body, and then past him. The walls shook, dust rained on their heads, and Ryo prayed the building wouldn't collapse.

Kek stood in front of one of the windows to see the fire go up, but a moment later the shock wave dropped him onto his ass. Ryo couldn't hear him, but knew he bruised his tailbone by the way he rubbed it. When the roaring in his ears stopped, Ryo crawled over to Kek to make sure he wasn't hurt.

Kek winced, but had a grin on his face. "Totally worth it."

Ryo leaned his head on Kek's chest. The blood had dried into a crusty coating. It still stank of death, but it was no longer a fresh-opened, wet odor. "Do you feel better now, or are you still sick?"

Kek blinked up at the ceiling, the explosion caused a spiderweb of cracks to appear. "I'm fine. It's just that . . ."

"Is it getting to you? The killing?"

"Not . . . necessarily. I just wish it was my choice, but it's not my choice. I have to kill them because I was made to, and when it's all over . . ." Kek glanced at Ryo, his face taut with emotion.

Ryo started peeling flakes of dried blood away from Kek's skin. The look on Kek's face frightened Ryo more than the undead. "There's something you haven't told me. Some condition, right?"

Kek frowned. "We have to talk, but . . . can it be in the morning? We just blew a few thousand corpses straight to the Duat. Let's celebrate tonight, okay?"

Ryo blew the flakes of dried blood off of Kek's chest. He sucked in a shuddering breath and then breathed it out slowly, lifting his eyes so that they met Kek's. "Yes. You deserve a night out, but you're a filthy mess again. Let's go to the bathhouse in Market Town."

"Oh joy, my favorite place."

Ryo stood up, dusting his clothes off despite their blood stains. "I know, mine too, but I want a hot bath."

* * *

Marik woke to bright, pure light. He smiled, remembering the glass roof, similar to a greenhouse, above his head. He opened his eyes, wanting to see the stark, blue sky; however, his view of an otherwise perfect and beautiful late morning sky was soiled by a small, rectangle of shadow . . . a Duel Monster Card sat on the roof right above him.

"Fuck." Marik turned over, burning his face into Bakura's shoulder.

"What time is it?" Bakura muttered.

"Fuck my life o'clock."

Bakura paused a moment, and then stroked Marik's hair. "Want to go with us to the craft store? We left all Miyu's stuff behind."

"For all the good it did."

"Let's eat breakfast and go get a football."

"I should probably practice. Looks like I have a tournament at the end of the week."

Bakura stretched and yawned, brown feet kicking out from beneath the covers. "Do it this evening. It's not like practicing is going to really help in the end."

Marik looked back up at the card sticking to the glass above them. "You're right." Marik swung himself on top of Bakura, lowering his mouth until their lips pressed together.


	28. Chapter 27

Anzu woke up to an empty bed. It wasn't uncommon for Yugi to wake up before her, but she hated the feeling of waking up alone. She found clean clothes, took a quick shower – not bothering with her hair – and searched the mansion for Yugi. She checked the game room first, then the kitchen, and even interrupted Seto in his office, but she couldn't find him anywhere she looked.

She saw Mai and Jonouchi dueling on the patio. "Hey, have you guys seen Yugi?"

"Not since last night," Mai answered.

"He's probably with Atem," Jonouchi said, staring at his cards.

Anzu nodded. "Yeah, that's a good idea, thanks."

Finding Atem was another quest altogether, but she managed to track him down in the library. He sat staring at a paper covered in what looked like hieratic, but Anzu didn't recognize any of the characters.

"Sorry to bother you, but . . ."

Atem jerked his head up. "Anzu. I didn't notice you come in. What do you need?"

"Have you seen Yugi? No one's seen him."

"I saw him earlier this morning. He was still more than a little tipsy. He said he was going to go to the koi pond. Maybe he fell asleep out there?"

Anzu smiled. "Probably. Thanks, I'll go check."

She wasn't worried. She kept telling herself she wasn't worried. Apprehensive, yes, but that wasn't the same as worried. As she walked through the gardens that led to the koi pond, Anzu kept trying to picture Yugi curled up in the grass, or perhaps leaning against the bark of a tree. She would yell at him, and make him change into dry clothes, and then they'd go back to bed and lay together for an hour or so before getting breakfast.

But Yugi wasn't there, neither sleeping in the grass nor leaning against a tree. Instead of her husband, Anzu found a grimy, wrinkled sheet of paper. She picked it up, holding her breath as she read the poorly scribbled _kana_.

 _His life for the Tome. Midnight. The Kame Game Shop._

The paper fell from Anzu's hand. Her arms hung at her sides as she watched the paper flutter to the grass. Anzu bent down and retrieved the note, racing towards the mansion.

Jonouchi and Mai looked up from their card game as they watched her run back inside. They followed her, calling out, but she ignored them. She went to her bedroom and found her guns.

"Whoa, whoa. Anzu, what's up?" Jonouchi reached out his hand. "Why don't I hold onto those for a while."

"Yugi's been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" Mai scowled. "That's impossible. There are armed guards everywhere. We're behind a gated wall."

Anzu shoved the paper at Mai. She and Jonouchi leaned over to read it. Jonouchi looked up from the note. "Don't worry. I'll show this to Atem. We'll get Yugi back – even if we have to give up the Tome."

Anzu snorted bitter laughter, grabbing Yugi's ax as well as his guns. "Do you think that maniac will let Yugi go if we give him what he wants? No. He'll kill Yugi no matter what we do—"

"Anzu!" Jonouchi screamed.

"It's true! And I'm not going to trade the book and watch him die anyway! I'm going to shoot that bastard in the head and rescue Yugi, and if I can't rescue him . . ." Anzu's voice lowered to a harsh, dry whisper. "Then I can at least avenge him."

"Anzu, listen to yourself, you're emotional." Jonouchi held out his hands as if they had the power to stop Anzu. "Have you even shown this note to Atem?"

"Don't you dare tell me that I'm emotional! The man who's responsible for the death of most of the planet has my husband!"

"But Atem—"

"Will try to trade the Tome for Yugi and then we'll all die! You're the one acting emotionally."

"Mai," Jonouchi hissed. "Help me."

Mai stood still, nails digging into her palms. At Jonouchi's prompting, she took three steps towards Anzu. "Don't go alone. Let me get my guns."

"Mai!"

"She's right, Jo. This is a trap. He'll take the Tome, kill us all, and then use the Tome to do something horrible. Maybe kill the last survivors, maybe something worse, how can we let that happen? Let's just head-shot the bastard like he's another zombie."

"That's not how we _do_ things! That makes us as bad as him."

Mai frowned, standing next to Anzu. "Does it? Would killing him make us as bad as him? Or would it make us heroes? He's reduced the world to scavenging camps, Jo. Entire countries wiped out. Remember the news before the electricity went out? The United States – gone. Russia – gone. China – gone. This asshole deserves to die more than anyone else who ever lived."

Jonouchi clenched his teeth, hands in fists, breath held. "This is too big for just us to decide. The entire group should get a say."

With that, Mai slumped her shoulders, some of the defiance deflating from her posture. She glanced at Anzu. "The others do have a right to know. Let's tell them, hear their plan, but if you don't like what they say, know that I have your back in this, okay Anzu?"

Anzu nodded, her mouth tight. She dropped the ax to the floor, grabbed Mai in an embrace, and wept against her breasts. Mai petted Anzu's chestnut brown hair. She glanced at Jonouchi. "Better go tell Seto to gather everyone together."

* * *

Atem kept staring at the note, staring and staring until tears blurred all the characters together.

"Our best shot is to kill Kamenwati and then rescue Yugi. Do you hear me, Atem?" Anzu asked. "Don't even _bring_ the Millennium Tome anywhere near him. We can bring our guns instead."

He looked up at her. Anzu. He remembered a young waitress breaking school rules and working after classes in order to save money to travel to New York and become a dancer. He remembered her blindfolded and frightened as an escaped convict held a gun to her head, and he remembered the way the vodka ignited and the convict screamed as he burned and Atem _wanted_ him to scream for _daring_ to threaten her.

She wasn't a girl any longer, and Atem knew by her eyes that she wanted to hear Kamenwati scream for _daring_ to threaten Yugi. He swallowed. Everyone sat silent and he knew they were waiting for him to speak. "I understand how you feel, Anzu. I do. More than you know, but if we show up with guns, he'll kill Yugi."

"He'll kill him anyway."

"We have to try. We can always get the Tome back."

"I agree with Anzu." Seto shook his head. "I can have every guard on payroll attack the Game Shop. We can't allow him to obtain the Tome again."

Atem ran a trembling hand through his multicolored hair. "Kamenwati still controls the dead. If you bring guards they'll have to fight every corpse in Domino. You'd be sending them to die, and Yugi would die."

"Then just a few of us will go," Anzu insisted. "We can pretend we're there to give the Tome back and then shoot the bastard in the head as soon as he's in range."

Atem glanced at Shizuka, Honda, Mokuba, Mai, and Jonouchi, asking for their opinion with his gaze.

Honda stared at his hands. "Whatever you decide. We're behind you."

Mai shook her head. "My vote is to kill Kamenwati."

Mokuba nodded. "I think she's right. If he's dead, he can't hurt Yugi or anyone else."

"Are you guys listening to yourselves?" Jonouchi swung his fists as if shadowboxing. "I'd love to beat the bastard to death with my own fists, but it's not worth gambling Yugi's life."

Jonouchi stood to his feet and jumped on top of Seto's writing desk. Atem could see Seto bristle, preparing to shout at Jo, but Atem touched Seto's shoulder to calm him so that Jonouchi could speak.

"Come on guys! We used to all believe that things would work out no matter what! I'm not stupid, I know a lot has happened since those days, but our friendship hasn't changed, and as long as we're together we can save Yugi." He looked at Anzu. "But we have to be _together_." Jo crouched on the desk, grabbing a sharpie and drawing something on his hand. He held his hand up for Anzu to see, a quarter of a smiley face. "Together, Anzu. Yugi's luck hasn't run out yet. We just have to believe we can save him."

Anzu didn't weep, but tears trickled down her cheeks. "But what if you're wrong?"

"I know I'm right."

Atem set the note down, instead looking at the Tome in his lap and then looking at Anzu. "Let's try, Anzu. Bring a gun if it gives you peace of mind, but keep it hidden. Let's at least try it Jo's way for Yugi's sake."

Anzu dried her cheeks, nodding.

* * *

"Bakura, are you blind? Start passing the ball when I'm open!" Miyu stomped the concrete below her feet. They used the roof beside Bakura's house as a football field. Not only did they find a ball, but two goalie nets as well.

"Quit bitching and maybe I can concentrate on playing."

Marik laughed. "Sorry Miyu. You should probably know Bakura almost always loses no matter what game he's playing."

"Hey, games against the Pharaoh don't count!"

"Yeah? What's your excuse for all the poker games you lost last night?"

"Fuck you, Marik."

"Quit flirting and play some damn football!" Miyu shouted. She knew otherwise they'd never stop. She had the ball since Marik scored last. Miyu kicked it to Bakura, but Rishid stole it and scored again – putting Ishtars at 4 and White Hairs at 1. "Next time Rishid's on my team!"

Rishid scruffed her hair, much like Bakura often did. "You should never let Marik and Bakura be on the same team. They somehow fight even more."

"Is that even possible?" she asked. She never swatted Rishid's hand away when he touched her hair. He was a little too nice to smack. She even allowed Ishizu to give her an occasional hug, but Miyu drew the line at dresses. Ishizu always wanted to dress Miyu up like a doll and she was having none of it. Jeans, t-shirts, Ryo's hat, it was the official Miyu uniform of the zombie apocalypse.

"We don't fight _that_ much," Marik protested.

Bakura went to the sidelines. He winked at Miyu before passing to her and saying to Marik. "Yes we do."

"No we don't."

"Everyone says we do."

"When do we listen to what everyone else says?"

As they argued, Miyu was able to slip past Rishid and bring the score to 4-2.

Marik smacked his forehead once he realized what Bakura had done. "I can't believe I fell for that."

* * *

They found the bathhouse boarded up. That didn't stop them from breaking in and using it regardless. After their baths, Ryo and Kek agreed to split up for an hour so they could get ready for their date – it was more fun that way – and meet near the food stalls for lunch. Kek managed to find a single open shop in the entire market district, and he purchased the only tube of red lipstick and black eyeliner that he could find. Then he went back to the bathhouse to change.

The eyeliner was liquid and easier to work with than the kohl he used to wear as Marik, and the lipstick made his mouth look like blood. Kek paired the make-up with a short, sleeveless red dress and thigh-high black boots. He looked like a Las Vegas whore, which was presciently the look he wanted. The heels made his calves, sore from slaughtering countless undead, ache, but it would be worth the blush on Ryo's face when they met up for lunch.

Kek strapped on his kukris and left to find Ryo. Before reaching the food stalls, Kek stopped to check his lipstick with a small mirror he sometimes used to scout corners when hunting.

"I wish I had your confidence when it came to dressing."

In the reflection, Kek saw Ishizu. The mirror slipped out of his hand, and he decided to leave it in order to escape.

"Please don't run away." Ishizu reached out her hand as if to touch Kek's shoulder, but pulled back. "I just want to talk."

Kek glanced over his shoulder, wary. "Why? To lecture me about being an abomination of everything the tomb-keepers ever stood for?"

She shrugged. "I haven't been following tradition myself lately."

"Yes, I see the slacks. Very risqué."

She wore a large smock and cream colored slacks, her hair braided and slung over her shoulder. She looked down at her outfit and laughed. "Although both are forbidden to women, pants and weapons became necessary for survival. I wasn't even thinking about the clothes when I said that."

Kek looked for a weapon on Ishizu, but didn't see anything. He picked up his mirror. "I'm not apologizing . . . for anything I did before."

Ishizu frowned. "I don't have to right to ask you to. Not anymore." She stared at her hands.

Kek somehow understood the faraway look in her eyes. Her hands were long and slender, each nail was clean and well-manicured, but Kek knew she didn't see it. She saw blood.

"Who did you kill?" he asked.

"Two men . . . I didn't know their names."

"They probably deserved it." Kek walked away.

"Please don't leave."

Kek turned to fully face her. "Why? _Why_? Leave me alone."

Ishizu sighed. "We need your help."

Kek did laugh that time. "You're crazy."

"The tournament is approaching. Bakura stole the Tome and gave it to Atem, but . . . I have a bad feeling."

Kek snorted. "Yeah, you don't really need the Millennium Necklace to make that prediction if the last Battle City is any kind of precedent."

"The one who stole the Tome, who caused all this, will be there, and he still controls the undead."

Kek shrugged. "Isn't the Pharaoh back to fix that? It's not my problem."

"But you're here to release the dead, yes?"

Kek crossed his arms over his chest. His stomach grumbled and he wanted to ditch Ishizu and find Ryo. Still, something made him answer. "Yeah."

"He'll probably bring an undead guard with him."

Kek smirked. "And you want me to strip him of that guard."

"He can't use them to harm anyone if they're in the Duat where they belong."

Kek dug his toe against a loose piece of gravel broken away from the roof. "I shouldn't do it. Stupid Pharaoh should solve his own damn problems. Once this is all over, I have to give the Tome to the gods." He sighed. "I'm sure Aaru is great . . . but it's hard imagining anything being greater than waking up in the morning next to Ryo."

Ishizu's eyes widened. "You have to . . . they're not going to let you stay?"

Kek waved a hand. "I made a deal for a soul, not a life. Didn't know living was so much fun at the time."

"I'm . . . very sorry."

Kek growled. "I don't want your fucking pity. Where's the tournament? I'll make sure the dead are dealt with."

Ishizu bowed. "Thank you. The locator cards are the same – they lead to the Kaiba Corp Stadium."

Kek threw his head back and laughed, holding his stomach and almost tripping over his own heels.

"What?" Ishizu asked.

"We blew it up this morning!"

Ishizu blinked, her face confused. "You . . . what?"

"We blew it up!"

"Why on earth would you blow up the Kaiba Corp Stadium?"

"Because it was fun," Kek said his laughter evaporating to a smirk.

"I . . . well, I suppose I should mention that to Kaiba."

"Probably." Kek walked off, grateful that Ishizu didn't stop him again. Talking to her was confusing. He wanted to scream about their father, but at the same time he felt relieved that she hadn't lectured him about his clothes – perhaps dresses weren't that great of a leap in Ishizu's mind compared to Marik's former taste in silky, lavender belly shirts.

Part of him still blamed her and Rishid for not stopping Marik's initiation – had they saved Marik, had they protected him like siblings should, his mind would have never split in half. At the same time, part of him wished . . . but it didn't matter because he wouldn't live long enough to sort out his thoughts. Which made him wonder why he even bothered explaining to her about the Tome.

A warm breeze blew at his hair, making his spikes dance around his face. A few loose hairs brushed his cheek and he pushed them away because they tickled. Funny . . . how he never noticed little details like that before, when he was Marik.

"There you are! You're late!" Ryo shouted, breaking Kek away from his thoughts.

He looked up and grinned at Ryo. His lover's cheeks were as pink as he had hoped when he saw Kek's outfit. Ryo sat on a stool in front of a food stand – one not abandoned. He wore a pale blue button up with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The shirt sat, untucked, over dark gray slacks, almost charcoal in color. Ryo's milk-white skin made the colors pop against his body.

"Ishizu forced me to talk."

"Oh . . ." Ryo nodded, distracted as he stared at Kek's legs.

"She wants us at the tournament in case that dick that created the zombies decides not to play fair and attacks everyone."

Ryo blinked, looking up at Kek. "That's smart . . . well, strategy-wise it is. Personally, I was hoping to avoid all that drama, but we really should be there if we can help."

Kek sat on a stool beside Ryo. "You mean we should go because that's where all the prey will be."

"Yes. That is what I meant." Ryo smiled. "Hungry?"

"Starving. I want at least three bowls of whatever today's special is."

"Good, because I already ordered six bowls altogether."

Kek raised an eyebrow. "You think you can eat three?"

"Hey, maybe I can't compete with you when it comes to _killing_ , but when it comes to food you should consider me your rival."

"Talk is cheap. We'll see what you can do with your chopsticks."

They both laughed, enjoying the sunlight on their skin as they waited for their food.


	29. Chapter 28

The dead lined the street, two long rows of gray, rotting toy soldiers. Anzu walked with Jonouchi, Mai, and Atem down the street. From the mansion to as far as they could see, zombie after zombie stood on the sidewalk, facing each other. They stood still, with their arms at their sides and their mouths and eyes closed. That was worse than anything Anzu had ever seen – them standing still with their eyes closed – lifeless, decomposed fairytale princesses and prince charmings all under the same eerie sleep spell.

And she knew, at any time, Kamenwati had the power to break the spell, like true love's first kiss.

Anzu looked down at her hands, amazed at how calm they rested at her sides, no shaking, no quivering, no fear, just hands resting against her blue jeans.

 _Hold on Yugi. We're going to rescue you._

Another fairytale, she feared, but she prayed Jonouchi was right – that their faith was still strong enough to keep them alive and safely together. Her hands slid up to her stomach. It was too soon to feel the child quickening inside her, but knowing that life existed, and that she carried it within her, was her greatest motivation to hope when giving up seemed like the only way.

The stars crowded across the sky, and the litter-strewn pavement reflected the silver light of the full moon.

"We're almost there," Jonouchi whispered, as if they didn't know, as if they didn't all know exactly where the Game Shop sat. Even in the moonlight, even with silent, immobile zombies guarding the way, they were the same streets, the same shops, the same hedges that framed all of their lives. The countless trips from school (high school and college), the evenings after work, the hours spent playing games, talking to each other, planning lives they would never have because the world ended when they were only beginning to get started, all those moments lined on top of one another, more haunting than the dead bodies to their right and left.

She saw two small lights in the distance. A crowd of undead circled the game shop. On a flat section of roof above the huge GAME sign sat two iron braziers. Their fire lit up the figure of a robed man standing in the center on the roof. Behind him, almost lost to the shadows, were three other figures. Silhouettes of spikes outlined the head of the shortest figure in the center of the three.

"Yugi," Anzu whispered.

She jerked when a warm hand grabbed hers. Looking to her right, she saw Atem. "Don't worry," he said.

* * *

Ryo and Kek walked hand in hand. In the moonlight, his golden hair looked silver. Ryo knew his own white locks looked the same. "So what are we going to do between now and the tournament?"

"Sleep." Kek smiled.

Ryo winked at his answer. "Sleep? Or sleep together?"

"Yes."

"You don't want to kill anything?" Ryo teased.

"Better to rest."

Ryo pulled Kek a little closer to him, pressing his free hand to Kek's forehead. "Are you sure you're not feeling sick?"

Kek released Ryo's hand. He used both of his hands to take the one pressed against his forehead and then kissed it. "I'm sure." He kissed Ryo's hand a second time. "Why don't we play a game or something this week? Let's play an RPG."

"It's kinda hard to play with only two people."

Kek winked. "I bet you could make it work."

Ryo shrugged. "Yeah, I can. Damn . . ." he thought a moment. "Can't remember the last time I played. I know it was two years ago, but I don't remember my last campaign. Too bad my old apartment complex caught on fire. I had so much stuff we could have used."

"Is there a game shop near by? We could loot it."

Ryo checked to see what street they were on. A sharp, lonely stab hit his mind when he realized where they were. "Yeah . . ." Ryo sighed. "There's one a mile from here. The Kame Game Shop."

"Ryo? What's wrong?"

Ryo shook his head. "Nothing really. I was just wondering what the others were doing right now. I haven't seen them in so long."

Kek snorted. "Those dorks? Probably playing Duel Monsters and getting ready for the tournament."

"You're right. Of course that's what they're doing." Ryo shrugged. "Gods, they _are_ dorks. Why anyone would be excited to repeat Battle City is beyond me. The last one was terrible."

Kek laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Ooops, sorry about that."

Ryo laughed with Kek. "We need t-shirts that say 'I was banished to the Shadow Realm during Battle City, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt'."

"Only you would fucking say something that morbid, Ryo, and actually think it was funny."

"Come on. Let's go rob Yugi's game store!" Ryo ran down the street.

He heard Kek following behind. "This race is not fair. I'm in heels!"

"Mai could do it!"

"She's had more experience!"

Ryo glanced over his shoulder as he ran. "I'll slow down – but that means you're it."

"Racing isn't tag."

"Then I'm not slowing down."

Kek stopped. His expression changed into an odd mask. Ryo stopped as well, staring at Kek, and then finally turning to face forward again. He saw a line of people at the end of the street blocking the way.

"Those . . . _are_ people, right?" Ryo asked himself. He couldn't see them well at a distance and in the unreliable moonlight.

"They're dead."

"That can't be." Ryo frowned. "They're just standing there. We were shouting at each other and running. They should be attracted to all our noise."

Kek pulled out his kukris. "Stay here, Ryo."

He pulled the naginata from the strap he used to hold it on his back when he wasn't fighting. "Like fuck I am."

Kek growled. "Will you at least stay behind me until we figure out what's going on?"

"Sure. I'm not stupid."

They crept down the street until they reached the intersection where the zombies stood with their backs turned away.

Kek poked one of the creatures with his kukri. It didn't move. Ryo peered down the line and it stretched as far down the street as he could see. Across the street, another row stood. Kek swung his right kukri and caught a male zombie in the skull. The corpse sank to the ground, but nothing else moved.

"This is weird as fuck," Kek whispered, killing two more. Nothing happened. "Why are they standing still? This is pissing me off. Fight back you bastards!" Kek went down the line, smacking zombie after zombie, watching former housewives and bakers, business woman and police officers fall to the street, their blood violet in the moonlight. "Fight!"

"Maybe we should follow the yellow brick road?"

Kek frowned, knitting his eyebrows together. "What?"

Ryo pointed with his weapon. "They make a path. Maybe we should follow it?"

Kek kept knocking the undead to the ground. One-two, one-two, one-two, to Ryo it looked like Kek barely tapped their skulls with his kukris before the bodies fell. "Sure, if you want, but I'm not going to let the assholes just stand here and insult me!"

Ryo couldn't help but smile at the thought of Kek taking personal offense to the zombies not attacking. He walked alongside Kek as he went down the line. "What about the other side?"

"You get that side while I get this side."

"This is a lousy date." Ryo huffed a snort of laughter as he crossed the street. "You're a workaholic."

"Will a week's worth of Monster World make it up to you?"

Ryo started swinging at his own row of corpses. "We were going to do that anyway."

"What if I punched Bakura in the face? That would be worth a good laugh at least."

"That's kinda tempting, but I think Amane would scold me for it as soon as I went to Aaru. In the end, it wouldn't be worth the hassle."

"So . . ." Kek asked as he continued to cover the sidewalk with fallen corpses. "Is that a sister thing? To be meddlesome?"

Ryo grinned. Sweat matted his loose hair to his forehead as he struggled to keep up with Kek. "Did this just become a conversation about Ishizu?"

"No. I mean, not really. It's confusing with her."

"Yup. Confusing is how family works."

"Not with you. You had a good family."

"It was still confusing, Kek. My dad was gone a lot. Sometimes I'd get mad. Sometimes I thought he must hate me because he worked so much."

Kek glanced over his shoulder. "But . . . I thought you loved your father?"

"Of course!"

"Then how could you get mad at him?"

"I get mad at you all the time."

"Oh my god this is boring!" Kek screamed instead of continuing their conversation.

"Are you kidding?" Ryo laughed. "I wish it was always this easy."

"No! They need to fight back. They need to do something. Move, dammit! Move! Move!"

The corpses in front of them all turned, facing down the street instead of at each other. Ryo and Kek jumped back to the middle of the road as soon as the cadavers shifted.

"Holy shit!" Ryo pressed his back against Kek's, waiting for an attack.

Instead of attacking, they all marched forward.

"Hey! Where the fuck do you jackasses think you're going?"

"We should race ahead and see for ourselves," Ryo suggested.

"Fuck these guys! I'm not letting them just walk past me like I don't exist." He looked at Ryo. "Try to keep up. I'm about to clear this fucking street of the undead."

* * *

Atem pulled the Tome from his backpack, lifting it up so that Kamenwati could see it. "I brought it. Show me that Yugi's okay."

The robed figure disappeared from the roof, reappearing at the door in front of them. Yugi stood, tied and blindfolded with an undead guard on each side of him.

"You bastard!" Jonouchi screamed at the defected tomb-keeper when he saw Yugi tied.

"It's alright, Jo. We're getting him back," Atem said, forcing his voice to sound as confident as it always did.

Yugi's head perked up when he heard their voices. "I'm sorry . . ."

"No, Yugi." Atem shook his head, although he knew Yugi couldn't see the gesture. He stared at Kamenwati, trying to read the man standing beside Yugi. "Why? Why did you kill so many people?"

It seemed to Atem that every time they fought someone, their malicious actions were spurred by grief. Pegasus trying to cope with the lost life of his lover, Marik trying to cope with childhood trauma, Bakura trying to cope with the loss of his village, each one of them had specific reasons for their anger and atrocities. Atem didn't think it justified their actions, but he was beginning to understand that people weren't as simple as black and white chess pieces.

"Why? Because I had the opportunity. Both the Tome and the Items were too well-guarded before, but after the fulfillment of the prophecy, the remaining tomb-keepers let their guard down."

Atem shook his head. "But why do it? Children . . . entire families . . . entire countries are dead!"

"And now they're subservient to me." Kamenwati extended his leather brown hands outward. "Give it to me."

Yugi turned to the man's voice and then back towards the others. "If he's talking about the Tome, don't let him have it!"

"We're trading," Atem said, as if that explained everything.

Yugi shook his head. "No! You can't trust him! Keep the Tome. I don't care what happens to me. Just fix the world!"

"Yugi . . . I can't."

"Yes you can! I'm one person, _one person._ If you give him the Tome, everyone dies!"

Kamenwati's face didn't change. Kamenwati gave Atem a warm smile, his face of mess of wrinkles. His iron gray goatee grew over the scarred flesh and his chin and cheeks, and his dark-colored eyes seemed to twinkle in a deceptively good-natured way,. "If killing this one won't convince you, I'll kidnap his woman next. Perhaps _her_ life is worth the Tome?"

Yugi screamed, charging at the sound of Kamenwati's voice. The two corpses beside him grabbed him and held him in place. Yugi struggled until the skin on one of the corpse's arms split open, causing curds of old blood to plop to the ground, but they didn't let go.

"Enough!" Atem commanded. "Here's the Spell Book – let Yugi go!"

"Atem, no!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Atem saw Anzu reach for her pistol. Mai touched her wrist and whispered something in her ear. Atem wished he could hear what Mai said, but whatever it was, it made Anzu hold on drawing her weapon.

Atem pushed the heavy, hateful book into Kamenwati's grasp. "Here."

A strange sound, like a thousand soldiers turning about face after a silent command. Atem realized the zombies were closing in, he stepped backwards, his group standing closer together and getting ready to fight.

Kamenwati smiled. "Thank you."

"Now let Yugi go," Atem said, although he knew better.

The old man smiled again, turning to the corpses guarding Yugi. "Kill him. Kill all of them."

The undead lunged towards Yugi. Anzu's bullet killed one the second Kamenwati spoke, but the other one managed tear into Yugi's shoulder before it fell with a bullet wound in its skull.

The parking lot of the Kame Game Shop became a battlefield. The others pulled out weapons as well, too busy fighting the dead to get near Yugi. Anzu screamed, emptying the last of her bullets into Kamenwati's head. He dropped to the ground. Atem reached out to take back the Tome, but when he rolled the ex-tomb-keeper over, two empty eye sockets of a long dead corpse stared back at Atem.

Soft laughter drew Atem's attention next to him. Kamenwati stood, holding the Tome. "Not so easy, I'm afraid."

Atem took his sword and jumped to his feet. The body that fell before his edge was another long-dead cadaver, and then there were too many of the undead for Atem to focus his attack.

Kamenwati appeared again, possessing the body of a different corpse. "If you somehow survive this, I'll see you at the tournament. Make sure you bring Slifer. I'll need the Gods to finish my plans."

"Damn you!" Atem swore at he swung disabling blows to the mob surrounding him, trying to buy as much time as possible.

Kamenwati disappeared into the thick. Atem stood beside the others. Anzu knelt and held Yugi with one arm, using her other hand to shoot the closest dead. The rest of them tried to keep the press as far from she and Yugi as possible, but their circle of protection kept shrinking as the mob tightened around them.

Atem screamed. He screamed in rage and he screamed in grief. He slashed with his scimitar until he could barely lift his arm, and then he prepared to die, but a blur of bronze and red cut through the wall of corpses. Atem blinked, disbelieving his sight. The strange attacker moved so fast that it hurt Atem's eyes to watch.

For a strange, surreal moment, Atem wondered if Ra had awoken Sekhmet from her rest to once again pour the gods' wrath down on the land, but then Atem realized that it wasn't a woman fighting with twin blades, it was Marik's double. He no longer looked like Marik, a relative perhaps, but not like an alternate self.

The zombies fell like wheat against the blade of a scythe. Once the bodies surrounding them all fell to the ground, he stopped and laughed. He flicked blood off of his weapons and sheathed them once they were clean. "Ha! Take _that_ you dumb shits. That's what you get for ignoring me." He looked up, seeing Atem and the others. "Ah, fuck, not you guys."

* * *

Yugi's entire right side burned. Human teeth weren't made for ripping through living flesh or bone, and the zombie had left a deep, jagged, bleeding wound in his shoulder.

Anzu cradled him and wept as gunshots exploded around them. Then everything was eerie silence, and Yugi thought he _must_ be dead. That's why Anzu was crying, because he was dead, and that's why everyone was screaming around him although the sounds of fighting had stopped. Only the pain flaring in his shoulder suggested otherwise, but Yugi even doubted that when a battle-scarred angel scooped him up and held him.

But it wasn't an angel. It was Ryo, his white hair glowing in someone's flashlight. Ryo used a knife to cut away at Yugi's shirt. He poured something over Yugi's wound and Yugi screamed from the pain. Then Ryo took needle and thread and started sewing up the hideous gash. Everyone still screamed all at once.

"R-ryo?" Yugi stuttered.

"Don't worry, Yugi. It's all right."

"You have to shoot me," Yugi whispered. "Don't make Anzu do it. Shoot me, Ryo."

Ryo simply continued sewing up his shoulder, and then he bandaged it. "Don't be silly. I don't even have a gun."

"Ryo, I was bit. I don't want to be one of those things. Please, don't let that happen."

Ryo looked up. "Will you all please shut the fuck up? He's going to be fine!"

Anzu grabbed Ryo with shaking hands. "Ryo? Ryo don't you know what happens when someone's bit?"

"Anzu, he had the Puzzle. He'll be fine as long as this doesn't get infected."

"No, Ryo, you don't understand . . ." Yugi forced the words from his throat.

Ryo rolled his eyes. The gesture looked ridiculous given the circumstances. He pulled his shirt off, and screamed at the shouting voices that argued out of Yugi's line of vision. "Look! I know what I'm talking about. I've been bitten multiple times. It's Shadow Magic – Yugi had the Puzzle – he'll be fine!"

Anzu grabbed his shoulders again. "Really?"

"Yes, Anzu, I promise."

She started crying again, grabbing Ryo's cheeks instead of shoulders and kissing him in her joy.


	30. Chapter 29

*****Mild Deathshipping and Rashid x Ishizu (I don't remember their new ship name and I'm too lazy to look it up)*****

* * *

"Yo, bitch, back up." Kek scowled when he saw Anzu kiss Ryo.

She responded by grabbing Kek and kissing him in the same way, scuffling her hand through Kek's hair afterward. "You saved us! Thank you."

Kek wiped his mouth. He understood it was a sisterly kiss, but it was still odd. He wasn't used to human contact with anyone other than Ryo or the occasional smack to the arm or fist bump from Miyu when they all ate lunch together.

He knelt beside Ryo, trying not to punch the others for existing. Their presence annoyed him, bringing back bad memories of the Shadows and the time he was Marik; however, for Ryo's sake, Kek remained kneeling in the parking lot, content to caress his kukri handles.

The others crowded around Yugi – once Ryo ended their fighting by showing them his own bite marks. They suffocated Yugi with hugs, all talking at once. Kek scooted back a few centimeters to avoid all the touching.

He noticed one person break away from the frenzy first and hug Ryo instead. It was the woman he fought during Battle City, Mai. She made a happy, girlish noise, and then poked several of Ryo's scars. "Gurl, you're a mess."

"Gurl, _you're_ a mess," Ryo snapped back without missing a beat, tugging at her long, blond hair. "Look at those splits ends."

"Don't even get me started. I'll scream. I miss Urban Decay much more than I miss society."

Ryo grabbed her hand, tapping at a ring on her finger. "Hey, what's this?"

Mai started chuckling. "Well, it took a god damned zombie apocalypse, but he finally asked."

"That's great!" Ryo hugged her a second time.

"And Shizuka just had a baby boy."

"Really? Holy shit, I've been gone a long time. I didn't even know she was pregnant."

Anzu broke away from the other conversation to hold her belly to interrupt. "And I'm next!"

Ryo smiled. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you."

At that moment, everyone dropped their conversations to stare at Kek. It was a sudden, almost eerie shift in attention. Kek's hands froze on his kukri handles, glaring at the others and waiting to see what they'd do.

"I didn't believe that kid when she said how many you could kill," Atem said.

Jonouchi crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.

Kek stared down at his lap, at the pattern the blood drops made on the skirt of his dress. He'd done a rather good job of keeping it clean, but a few sprays decorated the fabric. "I'm not apologizing for anything I did as Marik."

"No. You shouldn't," Atem said. "Ishizu said you have your own soul now."

Kek ground his teeth. "I don't see why she keeps interfering."

"This is the second time you've saved us, you know." Yugi scooted a little closer, wincing and holding his bandaged shoulder as he moved. His pants had dark stains from blood – both his and the zombie's – and his shirtless chest looked sickly pale, but Yugi seemed no worse for wear considering. "In order to get to Kaiba's mansion, we had to pass by the hospital, but we were overrun. We were going to die. Then Zilch started playing and drew them away."

Kek and Ryo exchanged a look. Ryo shrugged, speaking to Kek. "That's not too far from the electronics store, remember?"

Yugi smiled. "You even cleared out the hospital and that made leaving and entering Kaiba's much safer for us. And now this – It's like the gods sent you to protect us."

Kek snorted. The grip on his handles tightened. "No. I'm only here to kill things. I'm a scythe for Isis. Nothing more."

"We didn't know," Ryo said, "but I'm glad we helped."

"I knew you were alive, Ryo." Yugi tried to keep his smile, but his expression seemed sad. "I'm sorry we got separated. Looks like you've had a rough time on your own."

Ryo stared at the ground for a moment, but then he looked back up, his old, friendly smile on his face. "But I'm not on my own anymore. Kek's been keeping me company."

Kek expected Ryo to look apologetic at the last sentence, but instead he grabbed Kek's hand, pulling it away from the kukri handle. Kek stared at Ryo, his outfit also splattered in blood, scars pale in the moonlight.

"Oh Ryo." Mai blew out an exasperated breath. "At least he's not as bad as your last one."

"My last ex wasn't that bad." Ryo shrugged.

Mai wrinkled her face. "Yes he was."

Ryo laughed. "He _was_ annoying. I can't quite remember why I dated him."

Mai glared at Kek. "Okay, so let's pretend it's before the zoms and I want to steal Ryo for a debaucherous Friday night of shopping, drinking, and cheesecake consumption. Do you a) let him go, or b) pout like a needy bitch and guilt trip him via texts all night long to make sure he can't have any fun?"

Kek blinked at her for a moment, confused by what purpose answering her question would serve. "I'm not his damn mother . . ." Kek turned away, not sure if he should admit the rest of his thought, but he decided he didn't give a fuck what the others thought of him, so he continued. "It would suck that I couldn't go, though."

"I couldn't afford you back when people paid for everything." Ryo turned toward Mai. "He's worse than both of us together. All our safe houses are filled with freaking designer shoes."

"Fuck you, I _need_ all of those! Besides, you wouldn't have had to afford me. I had a reasonably sized offshore account Marik didn't know about – I took over more than he realized. Pretty much anytime Rishid was away. I could have given you all the money you wanted when we went shopping."

Mai smacked Ryo's shoulder. "Ryo! Why didn't you date him before the apocalypse? We could have owned this town – and its shoes!"

"Ow, Mai. It's not my fault. He didn't exist." Ryo rubbed his shoulder in mock pain.

"Mai!" Jonouchi stomped his foot. "Have you forgotten that's the guy that almost killed us both?"

Mai shrugged, staring at Jonouchi. "From what I've heard, Seto tried to kill you guys, too, and then Atem basically turned him into a vegetable. No one stopped _them_ from hooking up."

"What the hell? _They're together?_ " Kek shouted as the thought came to his mind. He laughed. He'd been raised, rather Marik had been raised, to see the Pharaoh as divine. The thought of him grunting and sweating beneath lube-stained bedsheets like any other mortal human was a concept Kek couldn't quite grasp – although he knew the others felt the same way about him.

Atem shot Kek a cool stare. "Nice dress."

Kek let go of Ryo's hand to fluff his hair, winking at the former Egyptian Pharaoh as if he didn't understand the insult. "Thank you."

Yugi stood up, holding his shoulder and diverting the conversation. "We've lost the Tome."

Atem stood up as well. "I'm sorry. Yugi, I'm sorry, but I couldn't . . ."

"I know." Yugi sighed. "I know. That's what I tried to explain to you when I wanted to go find Bakura. It's not so easy . . . when it's someone close to you on the sacrifice table. Still . . . I wish you wouldn't have come for me – you should have used that time to end his spell. He was going to kill us anyway."

" _He_ should be dead." Anzu frowned at her gun. She holstered it and stood to her feet. "I shot him. He should be dead and this should be over."

Ryo frowned. "Is he undead as well?"

"No, but he can somehow project himself onto the dead. Every time we attacked him, it was a zombie we killed." Atem spat. "Stupid coward."

"And now he has the Tome again." Yugi shook his head.

"Hey, don't worry about it." Jonouchi gestured with his hand, standing up like the others. "We'll get it back. There's still the tournament. Between you, Atem, Seto, and me, hell, one of us will win."

"Ha, you're definitely not winning." Kek laughed.

Jonouchi frowned, staring down at Kek. "There's still one spot open. Why don't you get some locator cards? I'd love to kick your ass in a re-match."

Kek stood, hands on his hips. Both his hair and heels added to the impression of height, allowing Kek to loom over Jonouchi. "As much as I'd love to humiliate you at the tournament, I'm afraid I'm already assigned to guard duty."

"What?"

Ryo rose, tapping his naginata against his shoulder. "Ishizu had a bad feeling. She asked Kek to go to the tournament." Ryo gestured to the bodies surrounding them. "In case that guy tries something like this again. She doesn't trust him to play fair."

"Good," Yugi said. "I'll feel a lot better knowing you guys are there."

Jonouchi frowned, kicking his heel into the pavement. "Yeah, I guess Yug's right . . . you are good at killing zombies."

Kek smirked. "Is that a compliment I hear? Shit, the world really has ended."

"Shut up."

"By the way . . ." Kek continued to smirk. "Better find a different place to host the tournament."

"What's wrong with the Kaiba Corp stadium?" Atem asked.

"I blew it the fuck up."

"Why?"

"It was fun."

"It was filled with zombies," Ryo interjected. "Sorry, we didn't think Kaiba would hold the new Battle City tournament at the same location, and it was the biggest place I could think of for an obstacle course."

Jonouchi raised his hand. "I volunteer to tell Kaiba! I want to see the look on his face when he finds out."

Yugi sighed. "We should probably have Atem tell Kaiba."

Atem rested a hand on one hip. "We can't really complain. Every less zombie in Domino City is one less game piece Kamenwati can use against us. We need every advantage we can get if we're going to get the Tome back, and a building is something I'm more than happy to sacrifice."

* * *

Rishid stared at her in the candle light. She lay on his chest, her naked, copper breast pressed against his side, her arm slung across his stomach, her leg slung across his legs. He combed her unbound hair with his fingers. He loved combing her hair, heavy and black like a drape, softer than a pleasant dream. The sweat from their coupling dried from their brows as they lay quiet in each other's arms.

Their place suited them. It was small, but that gave them an excuse to sit close together, and eat meals closer together, and lay in bed close together, and they preferred it that way. Whenever Rishid left, to visit Marik, to purchase supplies at the market, to gather information, he always walked home faster than he walked away. There was a certain excitement to opening a door and seeing her there, reading worn paperbacks, peeling vegetables from Bakura's garden, darning their socks. Whatever she did, it was a thrill to walk in on it, like a present he could open every day.

And that they were truly together, like man and wife, made all the hurt of the past evaporate. His heart didn't have room for it anymore.

"This feels like the calm before the storm," Ishizu whispered. "I wish I could stop every clock and freeze time."

"What do you see?"

She shrugged. He felt the movement against his body and still couldn't believe that it was real, that any of it was real. The dead attacking the living, perhaps that could be real, but his happiness – and Ishizu's happiness, and Marik's happiness – that seemed like a story and a hard one to believe.

"You know I don't have the Necklace anymore."

"I also know you don't completely need it. The bauble only amplified a talent you already had. When we were little you had dreams, and they always came true."

Candlelight and shadow and beauty dappled across her face. "I don't see anything, but I feel . . . I feel deep sorrow, and pain, and darkness. I feel grief so deep that it penetrates to the core of one's soul, but afterward . . . I feel light – the warmth of light, and it's peaceful." Ishizu closed her eyes and sighed, thick lashes twittering as she thought about her premonition. "I simply wish I could spare everyone we care about from all the trials ahead."

Rishid kissed the crown of Ishizu's head. He didn't respond with words. Instead, he held her, and watched candle-flame paint her skin in ocher, russet, and gold.

* * *

They reached their current safe house, another hotel. They left their clothes in the lobby and washed the gore from their skin before walking up to their room upstairs.

Kek sighed. "I had plans for that dress. Slutty plans that involved me bent over a table with you behind me. Stupid corpses ruining the end of our date."

Ryo tried to smile, but his mouth stayed in a line. "Kek . . . do you still like killing the dead?"

He shrugged. They made it back to their room and he threw on a bathrobe, slumping into a chair. "It's fine, I guess. Why do you ask?"

Ryo slipped into a matching bathrobe. They were house robes from the hotel, but even after two years of hanging in a closet, the cotton robes still felt soft against their skin. "It just seems like you're . . . pretending. At least a little bit. Your face used to light up with you fought them. Now, the smile's there, but you don't seem as happy."

Kek sat straight into his chair, staring at the carpet instead of Ryo. "I guess we should have that talk now."

Ryo frowned, sitting on the bed beside Kek's chair. "We can still wait until morning if you want."

Kek shook his head. "The tournament is this weekend . . . the Pharaoh will probably find a way to stop the undead, won't he?"

Ryo shrugged. "Probably. It seems like it always works that way, right? Some threat appears. Yugi plays a card game. Everything works out until the ridiculous cycle repeats itself."

"Ryo, I don't get to stay."

"W-what do you mean? I don't understand."

Kek hung his head. "The deal I made with Isis . . . it was for a soul, not a life. I'm only here to kill the dead, and when there's no more dead . . ."

"I hate the gods." Ryo stood up, pacing along the length of the bed. "I hate them. I hate them so much." He grabbed an empty vase from the nightstand and threw it into the vanity mirror above the dresser. Glass crashed into glass; both exploded.

Kek raised his eyes to watch the destruction, thinking of the clay vessel Isis had given him to throw. He couldn't help but smile at Ryo's anger, and wondered why he himself wasn't more angry. He stood up, grabbed his kukri belts, and pulled the weapons from their sheaths. He set one on the bed beside Ryo and kept the other one.

Kek swung the back edge into a dark, useless lamp sitting on one of the two nightstands. He rested the blade on his shoulder and grinned at Ryo.

Ryo's eyes gleamed, but he didn't cry. He stared at Kek, forcing a smile onto his face. "Okay. Let's do it."

Ryo grabbed the extra kukri and smashed the other lamp. Kek nodded, hitting the television set and watching the screen crumple in on itself. Candles and battery-operated torches illuminated their destruction. They smashed the pictures on the wall, the table and chair, all the drawers in the dresser and nightstands. Everything they could break apart they ruined, and when broken glass and splinters littered the floor, the tears finally rolled down Ryo's cheeks.

Ryo tackled Kek onto the mattress, clutching to him as the tears dripped silently into Kek's robe.

Kek wrapped his arms around Ryo's waste. "I should have told you. It didn't seem like a big deal at first. I just wanted to exist, and then everything happened all at once."

"I'm not going to be mad at you." Ryo wiped his eyes against his own robe sleeve. "There's not enough time to be mad." Ryo brushed the pads of his fingers along Kek's cheekbone.

That hurt. Kek expected anger, and yelling, and bitter accusations. He'd been prepared for angry fists pounding on his chest, and for Ryo shouting that they should have never fallen in love – he had warned Kek, and Kek, in his Marik-inherited arrogance, hadn't believed him.

Ryo's tender fingers, his gleaming, coffee-brown eyes, and his soft voice sliced into Kek's heart – the heart he hadn't had for very long. Kek opened his mouth, tried to speak, but his throat constricted, and he said nothing.

Ryo kissed him hard. Kek's teeth cut into the back of his lip from the pressure, but he pushed his mouth harder into Ryo's. It hit him then; they only had a few nights left. Ryo must have thought the same, because he tore at their robes. He snatched the lube, but didn't prep Kek.

Kek held onto Ryo's lower body and cried out. He didn't cry out from pain – he enjoyed it when Ryo skipped preparation, starting rough and leaving Kek sore and tender in the morning. Kek cried out in joy. He cried out in grief. And after they finished, and the glowing contentment of climax faded, Kek cried tears into Ryo's platinum white hair as Ryo held him. Anger and hate were easy to express, but at that moment Kek felt too many emotions to count, and he felt that if he didn't cling to Ryo and weep then his head would explode.

* * *

They made it back to the mansion. No matter how much Yugi insisted he was okay, everyone else insisted that he visit the medical staff. They disinfected his cut, but left Ryo's stitches alone, giving Yugi specifics on keeping it dry and clean. It was difficult to shower and keep the bandages dry, but Yugi managed, feeling better once the coagulated blood and dirt washed down the drain.

As soon as he settled beneath the covers of his bed, Anzu held him. She crushed Yugi in her arms, and he lay beside her, breathing in her garden scent and enjoying how fiercely she squeezed him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "He said if I didn't go with him then he'd attack the mansion with the undead. I couldn't risk it."

Her sobs wracked her slender frame. He held her until his arms hurt, and let her cry into his hair.

"It was Jo – Jo never gave up hope. I did. I didn't want Atem to try and make the swap. I was going there to kill Kamenwati for vengeance because I knew he wouldn't let you live. I should have . . . believed . . ."

"Shhhh." Yugi rubbed the small of her back. "Shhh. Anzu, I didn't want Atem to give up the Tome, and Kamenwati was going to kill all of us. If not for Ryo and Kek . . . so you had the right idea." He kissed her breast, at his face level since she was a little taller than him. "Even now, I wish Atem had never handed him the Tome."

Anzu dried her eyes. "But now that it's over – it was worth the Tome to get you back."

Yugi shook his head. "It doesn't feel like that to me."

Anzu snorted, brushing her palm against Yugi's cheek. "It's easy to sacrifice yourself, but if it'd been me – you would have given up the Tome."

"I would have shot Kamenwati," Yugi said.

"I _did_ shoot him. If it wasn't for that awful magic in the Spell Book he'd be dead, and I don't care if that's wrong of me. I don't care if it's bad for me to wish him dead – I do." She let go of Yugi with one arm and held her stomach to punctuate her sentence.

Yugi shook his head, staring at the oil paintings on the wall. "It sickens me to think he has the Tome again."

"What are we going to do now?" Anzu asked.

Yugi shrugged in her arms. "Go back to the original plan. Fight in the card tournament." Yugi forced a smile on his face, attempting to sound humorous. "Maybe Bakura wouldn't mind stealing the Tome again. Otherwise, we'll have to get it back on our own somehow."

Anzu sighed, laying on her back so she could rub her stomach with both hands. "This time . . . I wanted to be useful. I didn't want to sit on the sidelines and watch, but it looks like that's what I'll be doing after all."

Yugi patted her hands. "I wouldn't call creating an entire person sitting around and doing nothing."

"That's not the same," Anzu said.

"Why not?"

"Women make babies all the time. I don't want to be some half-assed kind of feminine useful. I wanted to actually _help_."

"You're more useful than you think you are. Besides . . ." Yugi smiled. Careful of his shoulder, Yugi swung his legs on either side of Anzu so he could lean down and kiss her stomach. His blonde, onyx, and magenta hair sprayed out in a fountain behind his head. His violet eyes reflected the room's light. "You and the baby are the reason why I have to win."

* * *

Atem and Seto sat in the library at Seto's desk, chairs opposite of each other. Lamplight softened the edges of their grim expressions. They didn't speak at first, only stared as if preparing for a duel. Seto broke the silence first. "Do you still have the key?"

Atem flicked a piece of paper up into the air, holding it with his pointer and mid-finger. "Clever of you to suggest I make one. It's almost infuriating how smart you can be sometimes."

"Forgive me if my foresight bruises your ego, mighty Pharaoh; however at least this won't slow us down from deciphering the Tome even without the book itself."

Atem smiled, unfolding the paper and staring at the not-quite-hieratic written between faded, blue lines. On the top was all the symbols they found in the Spell Book. Below, Atem had written the spell from the Tome in which he needed to translate.

"I don't know about this," Atem said, "but I am getting rather good at deciphering between your sarcasm and your less scathing, ironic commentary."

"What a relief. I do often worry about hurting your delicate feelings."

Atem traced his finger across the bottom characters. "It's a spiral."

Seto frowned, his eyes a deep, frozen blue. "What?"

Atem turned the paper on the desk so that Seto could see it from the proper angle. He pointed to the first character. "See how it's odd that this first glyph hangs back a bit? That's where it starts. Then it goes across, down, back, and up."

Seto shook his head. "Egyptians didn't write in spirals. Right to left, left to right, top to bottom, they weren't consistent, but not in designs."

"I don't think Egyptians wrote the Millennium Spellbook. The Shadow Alchemy in that book . . . it's not something a human could create on his own."

"Nonetheless—"

"Here." Atem interrupted, grabbing a pen and a book and using the spine as a straight edge.

"Atem. My book."

"I'm not hurting it. I'm just showing you that I'm right."

"I don't want ink on the binding."

"Seto, this is important!"

Seto grunted in frustration, but didn't argue. Atem shoved the paper back at him. "Now what do you see?"

Seto scowled at the paper and the spell bound in Atem's thick-drawn lines. "Perhaps, but . . ."

"Wait." Atem leaned over the paper.

"What is it?"

"From here . . ." Atem pulled the paper away from Seto and stood, walking towards the door.

"Atem, where the hell are you going?"

"To find a mirror."

Seto stood and chased after him with a brisk walk. "Why?"

Atem glanced over his tanned shoulder. "Because when I was looking at the paper from the wrong end, it almost made sense – as if the characters were upside down."

Seto clenched his fist. "Then how will a mirror help?"

Atem reached the nearest washroom. He waited until Seto stood beside him before he held the paper upside-down and in front of the mirror. Atem smirked. "Can you read it now?"

Seto's face paled. "I wish I couldn't."

Atem's smirked plummeted into a nauseous look as he, too, read the symbols in the reflective glass surface. They stood without speaking, eyes darting in a circle as they read the text. "I suppose that's how he projects himself onto the corpses."

"How is this going to help us?" Seto asked. "According to this, he had to transform his own _ib_ to control them."

"Yes. He literally killed his heart, a part of his own soul.."

"Then how are you suppose to reverse the spell?"

"Easy," Atem said. "All I have to do is take his heart."


	31. Chapter 30

*****Random fluff in this chapter*****

* * *

The smell of food woke Kek. He scratched his head and collected his thoughts, opening his eyes and seeing the destruction from the night before.

"Oh good, you're awake. I made congee for breakfast."

"Ryo?" Kek rubbed sleep out of his eyes. "You never wake up before me."

"It's past noon."

That made Kek's eyes shoot open. "Past noon?"

"Yeah. You know you did kill a stadium full of zombies yesterday and then killed who knows how many more last night. If that's not an excuse to sleep in, hell if I know what is."

Kek frowned. "But I don't have enough time to sleep in."

Ryo crawled on the bed and on top of Kek, leaning down to give Kek a soft kiss on the lips. "It's okay. It gave me time to go shopping."

Kek felt Ryo slip something on his finger. Kek lifted up his hand and saw a pewter ring. Examining it closely, Kek saw that the band was carved into two skeleton arms. In the center of the ring, they held a human heart. Kek smiled. "Only you. I fucking love it."

"Good." Ryo held up his own hand, fingers thin and slender as if they, too, were no more than bones. "Because it's part of a matching set."

Kek looked up, staring at the ring on Ryo's finger. "I . . . but – when people wear matching rings doesn't that mean . . ." Kek swallowed, having trouble stuttering out a full sentence. "What's the point of this?" Kek blurted out. "It's just for a few days. There's no point."

"There's an inscription inside," Ryo said.

Kek took off the ring, staring at the inside of the band he read the words he saw out loud. " _Love never dies_."

"The skeletons represent death, and the heart represents love. It's so we can be connected . . . even when you're gone."

Kek slipped the ring back onto his finger, staring at how the metal flashed against his dark skin. "All that hassle yesterday, and we didn't even get to steal anything to make dioramas for a Monster World game."

Ryo crawled off of the bed, grabbing two bowls. He handed one to Kek. "I don't have time to build anything really fun. Don't worry, we'll think of something to do."

Kek spooned the rice porridge into his mouth, although his stomach felt sick from nerves. "We have just enough time for you to teach me how to make explosives."

Ryo shook his head as he ate. "You'd blow up half of Aaru, and then I'd have to answer to the gods for it when I crossed over."

"Your pragmatic disposition continually prevents me from having any fun."

"I'm terribly sorry that all your joy hinges upon being able to turn things into flames and rubble."

Kek gestured to their destroyed room. "Admit it. Turning things into rubble has a certain kind of charm."

Ryo opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it, looking around at the splintered wood and shattered glass. "Okay fine. But you only get to blow up one building."

* * *

The earth of the tomb smelt of dry dust and the dander of corpses, and Marik hated the stench. Bakura's garden, on the other hand, was a rich, dark, earthy smell, a living smell. Marik didn't mind kneeling in the dirt as he pulled weeds and tossed them into an old bucket.

Bakura practiced with him in the evenings, insisting he was the only person in Market Town that could offer Marik a challenge, so Marik decided to spend the last few days before the tournament following Bakura and Miyu throughout their daily routine.

He hadn't realized how much _work_ they actually did each day. Marik always assumed one tossed some seeds in the ground and then waited around doing nothing as the plant grew. In fact, they had to water, weed, and harvest the crops by hand, and certain crops had to be grown together in order to maintain the nutrient balance in the soil while others had to be rotated.

But despite the hard work, crouching, stooping, pulling, Marik found that he enjoyed himself. He was outside, sun hot and fierce on his shoulders, and working above the soil felt the exact opposite as being buried beneath it.

"Your hair's getting long. You really will look like a princess soon," Bakura said , working on the row next to Marik.

"Kiss my ass, Bakura. Ishizu usually cuts it, but we haven't had time." Marik glanced up. "When did you cut your hair?"

"You finally noticed. Actually, last night when you were visiting your sister. I handed Miyu a dagger and told her to have fun."

"I'm surprised you have any hair left."

"I'm surprised I have any skin on my neck left."

"You know, Ishizu owns a pair of scissors."

"There's no fun in that."

"No?" Marik leaned over rows of daikon and burdock in order to get close to Bakura's face. "Then I suppose I'll have to find my fun in other places."

Bakura grinned, bridging the gap remaining between them and kissing Marik. They were only able to enjoy the kiss for three seconds before a pail's worth of water crashed over Bakura's head.

"You little bitch!" Bakura shouted, wiping water out of his eyes with his forearm.

"You looked like you needed to cool down." Miyu shrugged and walked away to fill her pail again. They cheated with the water, using their _kas_ to fill a large, wooden tub from the closest river and flying it back to their roof before dawn. Their cisterns alone couldn't support such a large garden.

Marik laughed. It was easy to laugh since he was dry. Bakura responded by shaking his hair out like a wet dog, making sure to aim the flying droplets in Marik's direction.

Marik tossed a weed at Bakura's head with one hand while using the other to shield his face from the stray droplets. Bakura grabbed him and kissed him again before he moved on to his next row of weeds and vegetables.

"What are we doing after this?" Marik asked.

"Whatever we want."

"Aren't you suppose to be training or something?"

"We're taking the next few days off."

"You're so lazy," Marik teased, moving onto the next row. In truth, he was glad. The tournament loomed over them like a death sentence and it'd be nice to spend a few days living like normal people instead of surviving the apocalypse or trying to save the world by playing a game of cards.

* * *

Mai shook her head, tsking. "I wouldn't put that card out yet. It's too early in the game, and it gives me too many chances to destroy it."

Jonouchi grinned. "C'mon, Mai, a little faith."

"Okay, but when I send it to the graveyard in a turn or two don't cry to me."

Jonouchi's face grew serious. "I've been meaning to ask . . . why aren't you in the tournament? You could have won five locator cards in your sleep."

Mai shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I love the game, but I don't really see the point of entering a tournament in which both Yugi and Atem are playing."

"You make it sound like they're automatically going to win!"

"Won't they? At least one of them. They'll probably face each other and whoever wins that game will go on to fight Kamenwati."

Jonouchi frowned. "I could win."

Mai sighed, setting a card face down. "Sure you can."

He leaned back in his chair, blonde bangs slipping into his eyes. "You could at least _pretend_ to sound convinced."

"You've won against Yugi before, but this is a tournament. You know how these things work."

A crooked smile decorated Jonouchi's face. He looked cute, slumped back, but still cocky. "I won't make it easy for him."

* * *

Although scattered across Domino, they all spent the rest of the week in the same way, staying up into the darkest, most indigo part of the night and laughing, finding any possible excuse to kiss, or make love, or to simply hold hands when no one else was looking. Each day was a ripe piece of citrus fruit, an orange, a lemon, a lime, and they juiced it, taking the flavor and leaving the bitter pith behind.

The night before the tournament, Atem had everyone gather into the game room. They didn't play poker, or chess, or Duel Monsters; instead, they sat in semi-circle, looking apprehensive.

Atem showed them his copy of the spell Kamenwati used to raise the dead. He kept it folded in half so they couldn't see the glyphs or the disturbing way they spiraled into themselves. "This is the spell. Seto had me write it down before we rescued Yugi. I'd show it to you, but . . . even the copy has disturbing effects on the mind. I'd rather spare you that strain."

"Are you okay?" Yugi asked.

Atem nodded. "One spell isn't as bad as having the entire book."

"So can you reverse the spell?" Shizuka asked, baby in her arms and a concerned look on her face.

"Yes, but . . . not without Kamenwati. Which is going to be difficult because the coward uses the dead to hide himself."

"No offense." Mai frowned. "But why are we still having the tournament then? Wouldn't it be better spending our time searching for that bastard?"

Seto gave a single, curt nod in Mai's direction. "I've had senior members of Kaiba Corp security doing just that, but every time they get close, the dead surround them and they have to fight through their retreat. It doesn't matter how many dead we dispatch – he controls every corpse in the world, I suspect he's been calling pawns from the nearby cities to ensure he has safety in numbers regardless of how many die."

"Which is why we're still hosting the tournament," Atem added. "Kamenwati wants the god cards. He told me as much before disappearing with the Tome. Our current hope is to distract him while smaller teams search for his current location."

"What happens when they find him?" Anzu asked.

Silence struck the room; Atem and Seto glanced at one another. Atem turned to Anzu with a reassuring smile. "We'll capture him, at least as long as we need to in order to reverse the spell."

She looked away. "I still think you should kill him."

Atem stared at the folded paper in his hands. "Don't worry, Anzu. I promise his heart will be weighed . . . and judged."

* * *

They were on the roof of an old apartment building. It'd been someone's safe house, the ground floor was well barricaded, and the garden on the roof still thrived, but they couldn't find any sign of the people who once lived there. There was a small chicken coop, but no dead chickens, which suggested that the people moved instead of abandoned the apartment – perhaps they went to Market Town to be closer to the duels.

Ryo and Kek helped themselves to tomatoes and cucumbers from the garden and supplemented the vegetables with smoked pigeon meat. One thing that attracted them both to that particular roof and that particular garden was that someone had decided to grow flowers along with the vegetables. The soft fragrance of blossoms and summer sky held them like a mother's embrace as they watched the stars, and Kek had a dozen white gardenias woven into his golden spikes of hair.

They still wore their wedding clothes from days before. Ryo discarded the jacket of his tux in the heat, and Kek somehow lost his veil, but they still looked ridiculously fancy for a post-apocalyptic urban zombie wasteland. They'd spent their week drinking champagne, dancing, and finding buildings full of zombies to blow up. The hem of his dress was gray with soot and ash, but at least there wasn't any blood on it.

Kek tried to count the stars, and lost count after twenty four. "Ryo? If it was your last night on earth, what would you do?"

"Play Chrono Trigger," Ryo answered, laying on his back beside Kek. They had a blanket spread out to keep them from getting any dustier than they already were. "Sweet gods I'd play until my last breath if I knew I was about to die. My last words would be 'Hey Kek, I found a power tab'."

"What kind of game was Chrono Trigger?"

"A video game on the Super Nintendo."

"I never had a chance to play video games."

"You would have loved them. All the blood and violence you could ever want with none of the consequences of actually killing people. You would have loved Mortal Kombat."

Kek settled down on his side next to Ryo. "You'd seriously spend your last night alive playing video games?"

"Or finishing up a Monster World campaign. Or reading the last pages of a novel. I'd eat cream puffs until I threw up, and then bungee jump until I threw up a second time. I guess the problem would be that I'd want to do everything." Ryo glanced at Kek. "What do you want to do?"

"Scuba diving sounds fun, and I always wanted to see the Phantom of the Opera."

"I love the Phantom of the Opera!" Ryo sat up, kneeling and looking down at Kek. "I'm not an opera singer, but I had the soundtrack and know all the words to all the songs."

Kek chuckled. "Knowing your crazy ass, you probably like the Phantom."

"Yes! He's the best character in the entire story!"

He laughed harder, sitting up so he could watch Ryo's face in the light of the stars and their little night-fire.

Ryo licked his lips and started singing. " _Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses._ "

Kek stopped laughing, smiling as Ryo sang.

Ryo crawled into Kek's lap, tracing the pad of his thumb up the curve of Kek's cheekbone. " _Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light. And listen to the music of the night._ "

Kek's fingers fumbled at the tie's knot at Ryo's snow-white throat, and then he started undoing the buttons in Ryo's shirt. Ryo didn't pause, singing as Kek undressed him.

" _Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams. Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar, and live as you've never lived before. Softly, deftly music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind in this darkness that you know you cannot fight. The darkness of the music of the night._ "

Kek slipped the shirt off of Ryo's torso, the wind blew it across the rooftop until it caught on the corner of a flower bed and stayed in place. The wind also plucked some of the petals from the gardenia's in Kek's hair, blowing them into the air and swirling them into the dark sky.

Ryo traced slow, deliberate lines along Kek's bare shoulders. " _Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be. Only then can you belong to me. Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation. Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write. The power of the music of the night_."

Ryo leaned close, his lips a centimeter from Kek's mouth. " _You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night_."

There was nothing for Kek to do but close his eyes and tilt his face up closer to Ryo's mouth. Ryo's fingers trailed up to Kek's hair, cradling the back of Kek's head and pulling their mouths together. Kek's heart trembled in his chest. It felt so wild and untamed behind his ribs that he couldn't fathom how it'd ever stop beating. Even if the gods tore it from Kek's chest to weigh, it'd still be thrumming with the thrill of Ryo's voice, and his song, and the touch of his fingers, and the taste of his lips. It would shake Ma'at's scale with its beating, crashing balance and justice and order to the ground, crumbling both Aaru and the Duat into imagination as the Ogdoad rose up, black and thick, to reclaim existence.

And that was how Kek spent the last complete night he knew he'd be alive, wrapped in Ryo's arms beneath starlight, surrounded by a garden that someone had loved. The scents of fire-smoke and flowers danced around them along with the occasional stray petal. The wind sucked the sweat from their bodies as they cried out their pleasure loud enough for the gods to hear, and Kek thought it was right for them to desecrate Thoth's moon and Nut's sky with the vocal evidence of their passion. The gods could forsake their love, but not deny its existence.

Neither slept. Neither could sleep. They held each other, and talked, and cursed the morning. When the sky grayed and gold pushed above the horizon they cursed Ra for bringing the sun, and they cursed Set for protecting Ra during his journey, and they cursed Apep for failing to eat the sun.

But the gods heeded curses with the same indifference as prayers, and in the end they washed and ate the last of the hospital's stash of chocolate pudding for breakfast, and prepared for their role in the tournament, scythe and kamma.


	32. Chapter 31

*****I've been crazy busy lately. It won't change updates to this fic, because I finished this llast night, but if you follow the lemonade stand you might notice that one slow down. *****

* * *

Bakura and Marik hadn't slept. They lay in each others arms, holding each other for all they were worth, and cursed the morning, but the gods headed curses with the same indifference as prayers.

"I guess we should get up," Bakura mumbled, face pressed into Marik's chest.

"Let's stay in bed. I can see the sky from here. I'm in a comfortable bed. I have a gorgeous lover in my arms. Why would I leave? No one could blame me for staying."

Bakura grinned. "Okay."

"I mean it," Marik insisted.

"Okay."

"I'm not getting up."

"All right."

"I'm _not_."

"Anything you say, Marik."

"Dammit, Bakura, stop agreeing with me! It's unnerving."

Bakura pushed Marik down on his back and hovered over him. The thief clinked his gold bracelet against Marik's matching piece. "No matter what you do today, and no matter what happens today – I love you, Marik. That's more important to me than anything else."

Marik studied Bakura's face, his own taut with anxiety. "Damn you, don't say it like a goodbye."

"Hey." Bakura smiled. "We survived the last Battle City."

"Yeah, but . . . we were split apart after that."

Bakura ran the coarse pads of his fingers down Marik's cheekbone. "Not really."

Marik sat up. "Easy for you to say. You spent about ten years in paradise. I was here. It's harder here."

"I know." He kissed Marik's lips. "I'm going to tell Miyu we're leaving."

Marik nodded, his eyes closed in order to block out the upcoming day and the sorrow they somehow knew they'd have to endure before they slept again. Bakura kissed him again and dressed. The skylight kept their home bright, but he still had to shield his eyes from the morning as he walked across the bridge that connected their roof to Miyu's. He didn't bother with the door. He went to Miyu's bedroom window and knocked.

A few minutes later, the sleepy girl peeked outside, rubbing grit from her gold-green eyes. "You leaving?"

He nodded. "Don't let the town burn down while I'm gone."

"Shit will get back to normal after this, right? No more card games, or zombies, or card-playing zombies?"

"Yeah," he said. He believed it, too, but he feared the gods' methods and their schemes.

He found Marik standing in the garden. "Are you ready?"

The breeze tossed Marik's loose hair around his shoulders as he continued to stare at squash and burdock. "It was fun, this whole week, digging in the dirt, pulling weeds. I've been missing out."

"Glad you had fun because your lazy ass can be right back in this garden next week. 'Bout time you do some real work around here."

Marik smiled, his expression soft.

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "It's your line, Marik. This is the part where you fence me with some witty retort or another, and then I'll smirk and turn it into an innuendo, and then you'll reverse it somehow and bring it back to an insult."

"Let's skip to the part where I challenge you to make good on your erotic threats and then we start tugging at each other's clothing."

Bakura grinned, extending his hand. "Yes. That's my favorite part of our bickering as well."

Marik took Bakura's hand. "So? Are we going to walk, or . . ."

Bakura chuckled, flicking stray white bangs away from his forehead. "Walk? Like peasants? That's not how the Thief King operates."

He summoned Diabound.

* * *

"What? No blimp?" Jonouchi teased when he saw the plain wooden stage rising from the ashes of what used to be the Kaiba Corp Stadium.

Seto Kaiba crossed his arms over his chest. "We don't have the resources to waste flying a blimp."

A large card table sat in the center, a chair on each end. They also didn't have the resources for Duel Disks. With a little more time, Seto could have fitted several models with the prototypes of the micro solar panels he and Mokuba had created; however, time was yet another resource they didn't have.

"There he is," Atem muttered, staring up at the sky. "Look at that damn show-off."

Seto glanced up in the same direction and saw Bakura and Marik. Diabound was an impressive _ka,_ but not as impressive as Kisara's Blue Eyes White Dragon.

"Come on." Atem tugged at Seto's coat sleeve.

Seto wore a full suit, white to reflect some of the summer heat, but still uncomfortable. Nonetheless, he refused to take off his jacket and roll up his shirt sleeves. Even at the end of all things, Seto Kaiba had a presence to maintain, and he would do exactly that. He followed Atem, as soon as they were within shouting distance Bakura screamed at them.

"Why are we here? Why haven't you done your job, yet?"

"I know how to reverse the spell," Atem said, his gaze narrow and sharp as it studied Bakura. The bruises had faded from Atem's jaw, but Seto noticed how his fist clenched, as if he wanted to finish the fight Bakura started the day they received the Tome.

"Great. Go and end it. We have better things to do than be here."

Atem's hand went slack; he sighed. "I need Kamenwati. I can't end the plague without him."

"He should be one of the finalists," Marik said. "Isn't this tournament still a pretense to lure him here?"

Atem shook his head. "I wish it were so simple. Unfortunately, it's not Kamenwati that will be here. He uses the dead like marionettes, projecting his image onto them." Atem paused, fixing his gaze on Bakura. "I was hoping you'd use Diabound to help me find where he truly is while he's distracted by the tournament."

Bakura laughed, as he always did. He walked away, then turned and paced back towards them. "Fuck no! I've helped you once, I have no intention of helping you again."

"Bakura, he wants the god cards. He'll be watching to find out which players have them."

That made Bakura's laughter die and sink into a heavy quiet as he stared at Atem. He grit his teeth. Seto noticed how the thief struggled to control his anger. "Who does Marik duel first?"

Seto shook his head. "Mokuba selected the matches at random and put them in a sealed envelope. No one but him will know until it's announced in an hour when the tournament officially starts."

"It's Ishizu," Atem said, his arms crossed over his chest.

Seto's jaw tightened. "Why do you say that?"

Atem gave Seto a demure, guilty smile. "Jonouchi and I might have taken a little glance at the line-up last night after Mokuba went to sleep."

Seto pinched the bridge of his nose, keeping his own anger in check. He glared at his spoiled, royal lover, making sure Atem saw the naked anger in his arctic-blue eyes. "If this wasn't about more important things, I'd disqualify you both."

"I suppose saying sorry wouldn't really help anything."

"No. It doesn't."

Marik sighed, oblivious to Seto's and Atem's conversation. "Ishizu. That's good."

"At least one of you will be eliminated after the first round." Bakura grabbed Marik, pressing their foreheads together.

He wasted a moment combing through Marik's hair. Then Bakura's fingers fell down to the scarred wing jutting across Marik's shoulder out of the orchid-colored tank top that made his eyes look twice as bright. Bakura didn't seem to care that Seto and Atem stood and watched them, waiting to see if Bakura would capitulate to Atem's request or tell them to fuck off again.

Continuing to ignore them, Bakura whispered, "I'll be back by the second round."

"You're bad luck. I'll probably be better off if you stay the fuck away. Besides, I don't need cheerleaders watching me. I'm not the Pharaoh."

They both chuckled. Seto half wanted to laugh as well, but emoting wasn't his forte, so he mentally acknowledged the amusement he felt and made an internal note of the peeved expression on Atem's face.

Bakura kissed Marik's forehead and pulled away. He turned to them. "And if I somehow manage to find this prick again, I suppose you want him delivered alive?"

Atem's annoyed look had changed into a soft, mild confusion when he saw Bakura kiss Marik's forehead – the thief's tenderness obviously threw Atem off track; however, once Bakura brought up Kamenwati, a Shadow crossed the former Pharaoh's features. "Just don't damage his heart."

Bakura chuckled again, but there was a hint of strain in the sound. "Then I suppose I should just make this easy for me and bring nothing but his heart back."

"That's fine." Atem gritted his teeth. "As long as it's intact."

Bakura and Marik exchanged a look, raising their eyebrows at each other.

"Pharaoh, are you okay?" Marik asked.

"It's Atem, Marik, I'm not . . . just use my name, okay?"

Bakura narrowed his eyes, but not in a harsh way. The look was analytical. "After all these years . . . you've finally seen the world outside your palace walls, haven't you? The world the rest of us live in."

Atem looked aged at that moment. Circles lined his eyes from lack of sleep, and Seto noticed the first signs of crow's feet wrinkling at the corners. He stared at Bakura. "I bet you're thrilled by that thought."

Bakura shook his head. "Not as much as you might think." He closed his eyes for a moment, as if to unsee all the little details in Atem's face that Seto saw, the strain, the stress, the fatigue, and most of all the grief. Bakura exhaled and looked at them once again. "I'll search the city."

Atem bowed in thanks. Bakura gave him an uneasy stare. Marik stole Bakura's attention by grabbing his hand. "Be careful."

"You too."

They stared at each other for a moment. Then at the same time they pulled one another's faces together in order to kiss. Bakura tried to pull away, but Marik dragged his mouth back for another kiss. Then Marik tried to let go, but Bakura cradled the back of Marik's head to keep him in place as they kissed again. Their movements were desperate, rueful, and Seto found himself swallowing and shoving his hands into his pockets.

 _We should be doing the same . . . in case something goes wrong. In case there's no time for goodbye._

He couldn't repress the thought as it bubbled to the surface of his mind, but Seto made no move towards Atem, nor did Atem reach out for Seto.

Still, they watched Marik and Bakura trying to say goodbye to each other. They couldn't turn away, really. The sight was too unimaginable to ignore. Two men, who'd shown nothing but obscene, grandiose confidence in the past, standing together with such genuine emotion shared between them that it burned away their outer personae and showed their true selves with stark, naked clarity. The sight terrified Seto Kaiba, the thought that one's pride and power could be so simply and completely stripped from them, and still it made Seto long to be away from tournaments and greater responsibilities. It made him long for wheat fields and Kisara's slender, white hands. It made him long for someplace quiet and shady where he could share a glass of wine with Atem.

When Bakura pulled himself away and ran, like Cinderella hearing the stroke of midnight on the clock, Seto exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Atem stared at his shoes. "I'm sorry I asked that of him."

Marik shook his head. "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

They went in their wedding clothes. Kek knew he'd ruin his dress, but that was part of the point. He wanted to make a subtle, visual statement. _This killing and this duty is destroying something beautiful (my relationship with Ryo). It is ruining something that should be left pure (Ryo who had lost every family member he ever had)._ No one would understand, but he felt compelled to make the statement anyway. _He_ understood the significance in his actions, and – being born of emotion rather than traditional methods – Kek always found it easier to express himself through action and expression rather than words.

Ryo had been right, killing had become a chore, something he had to do rather than something he enjoyed. He mowed through the corpses without interest, and before he realized it, he saw the wooden stage that stood in place of the destroyed Kaiba Corp Stadium. He climbed the steps up the platform, arms stained red up past his elbows, and walked up to the brown-robed figure standing alone in one of the four corners of the stage.

The man glared at Kek, as if Kek had personally offended the old tomb-keeper. Then again, Kek was coated in the cold, congealed blood of all his pawns, so perhaps Kek had offended him, or it could be the dress. It didn't matter. The man's scars pissed Kek off. The writing carved into the old man's flesh was the language of the Shadows, the same script that filled the Millennium Tome, and that was a language Kek knew well. His lavender eyes scanned the lines along the old tomb-keeper's face, and throat, and arms, he couldn't see the entire spell, but he saw enough to know that the man had carved the symbols into his own flesh as part of a dark ceremony that caused his own heart to rot and die in his otherwise living chest.

Such a waste, to destroy one's heart. Kek understood that better than most since his soul hadn't been a gift like every other human enjoyed – he had earned his soul with the blood drying stiff and cold on his arms and bare collarbone.

Kek pressed the blade of his right kukri against the tomb-keeper's throat. It wasn't a slicing blade. Kukris, like machetes, were chopping, utilitarian weapons, good for cracking open a coconut – or human skull – but not as fitting for cutting a throat. It didn't matter; Kek's threat was clear.

"Are you going to call more?"

"Will you kill me if I do?"

"Yes."

He could, with a dead heart Kek could kill the man without incurring Isis' wrath, but he knew that the man standing beside him was only a corpse covered in illusion the same way Kek was covered in rust-colored sanguine.

"It wouldn't stop me."

"No, but it would slow you down, and during the tournament, taking too long during your turn to bring another corpse in your image would cause you to be disqualified. Are you going to call more?"

The man looked away. "No."

"Good, because I want to change into dry clothes." Kek wiped his blades clean on the man's robes. He gave Kek a scathing look, as if no one had ever dared to disrespect him before. Kek only flashed a manic grin, as if daring the old man to do something about it, and then walked away to find Ryo.

* * *

Mokuba felt very vintage as he stood on the simple, wood platform with a clipboard and ink pen. Not that he wasn't such a punk-kid that he wasn't used to writing on paper. He remembered corded telephones and life before satellite television, but he wasn't used to Duel Monster tournaments being run with nothing more than a table and several decks of cards. Duel disks and holographic monsters had spoiled him concerning card games.

Mokuba sighed as he scrambled to get everything started on time.

"You're good. You're good. You're good. Ishtars are good." Mokuba muttered as he glanced at who was there. It helped that he knew them all; Yugi, Jonouchi, Atem, his brother, the Ishtar-trio. It didn't take much to guess who the robed figure standing by himself was, and Mokuba sure as hell wasn't going to wander over to him and ask him to formally register.

He caught sight of a girl he didn't know. She was a cutie, black hair cut into a messy shag that teased her shoulders, wire-rimmed glasses that gave her the pseudo-nerd look that Mokuba could never resist in a girl. He flashed her his best _I'm a billionaire playboy philanthropist would you like to see how quickly I can unsnap a bra_ smile. "Hello."

"Good morning." She responded with a displayed five locator cards. "Do you know who I'm supposed to show these to?"

"That would be me."

She smiled at that, reassured by Mokuba's easy nature. She offered him the cards and he took them from her lily-white, smooth hands.

"What's your name?" He turned back to his clipboard. He could have spent the entire morning shamelessly flirting, but his Kaiba nature was getting the better of him at the moment, and he knew he needed to try and prepare the poor girl for the shit storm she'd just accidentally dueled her way into. They really should have insisted that Mai or Rishid, hell even Bakura, take the last spot in the tournament to keep the ordeal internal, but the others all insisted on staying out of it. Mokuba didn't blame them; he purposefully became the tournament coordinator just to avoid having to play himself.

"Natsumi Ogawa."

He wrote the name down next to a number seven where he'd scribbled a question mark. "Thank you. We're about ready to start. I'll announce the line-up in a moment. Until then, stand around, maybe make a friend while you're waiting." He pointed at Yugi and Anzu. "I suggest talking to them. Yugi and Anzu Motou, they'll adopt you right away."

And that was the best he could do for her, introduce her to Yugi. Seto might call him a superstitious fool, but Mokuba was rather sure the laws of physics had a special clause in them stating that friends of Yugi had a higher survival rate than people who were not friends with Yugi. Even if he was foolish, the thought made Mokuba feel a little better as he looked over the platform and noticed the number of zombies Kek and Ryo had killed before they got Kamenwati to stop calling them to the ruins of the stadium.

He found his brother standing in ash near, but not on top of, the stage. Mokuba sat down and let his legs dangle over the edge, his calves level with Seto's head. "I think we're ready to start. Is there anything else I should do?"

"No. Call the line up. Begin the tournament." Seto studied the ash clinging to his leather shoes. "Let's get this over with."

Mokuba jumped back to his feet. He went to the center of the stage and climbed on top of the table using a megaphone so that everyone could hear him – a freaking megaphone, how old school was that? He wasn't even sure where Seto found the thing.

"Attention everyone." What he really wanted to say was _wuz up, bitches_ , but he figured he should pretend to be a professional. Even if the tournament was nothing more than a decoy in order to distract Kamenwati. "I'm going to call the line up in pairs. The duels will be played in the same order of the pairs I call." He glanced at the crowd to make sure everyone understood, and then opened the envelope in which he had sealed the line-up. "Yugi Motou vs Jonouchi Katsuya. Seto Kaiba vs um . . ." What the hell was Atem's last name? Mokuba realized at that moment that he had no clue, and decided to improvise. "Pharaoh Atem."

Atem didn't look happy about the name, but fuck it, he didn't formally register so it was his own fault. Mokuba continued with his list. "Ishizu Ishtar vs Marik Ishtar. And finally . . ." Mokuba frowned at his list and his clipboard. He wasn't going to come up with something snarky for the last participant, although he hadn't formally registered either. " Natsumi Ogawa vs Kamenwati."


	33. Chapter 32

*****Round 1 of the tournament in this chapter. This has 35 chapters and an epilogue, so we're almost done! Yay!*****

* * *

Yugi smiled at Jonouchi. "We've played a million games before, and you've beaten me plenty of times. This is just another game, Jo. Don't get psyched out because it's a tournament, and don't think I'll win just because everyone else does. We're going to play like we're at home."

Jonouchi nodded. "Of course, and wouldn't it be funny as hell if I did beat you? Talk about the underdog taking the lead."

Yugi leaned closer, whispering. "Bakura agreed to help look. As long as we play a good game, it doesn't really matter who wins in the end, right? We just need to give him time to find where Kamenwati really is."

"Don't worry – this is going to be a hell of a game."

They began to shake hands, but Jonouchi pulled Yugi in for a quick hug before they had to sit on opposite ends of the dueling table. A large white board to the side showed 8,000 LP under Yugi's and Jonouchi's names. 8,000 life points were the current tournament standard before the dead began to rise, although Yugi remembered back when it was only 4,000. They shuffled and cut their decks and began to play.

Jonouchi won the coin toss and went first, placing a card face down and ending his turn.

Yugi understood that the game looked more interesting with duel disks, but personally, he was glad they were playing at a table. It reminded him of every other game they played in high-school or college, sprawled out on Yugi's bedroom floor, or at the kitchen table. Holograms and Shadow Magic made a game too interesting for Yugi's tastes. He'd rather just play a challenging game with one of his best friends.

Yugi placed his Marshmallon face down. There was a time when it would have been easy to goad Jonouchi into attacking and losing extra life points, but they were no longer the kids they used to be. Perhaps still a little reckless and impulsive in life, Jonouchi had at least learned to temper himself in his card games.

Jonouchi grinned, putting two more cards face down.

* * *

Ryo yawned. The sun burned in the pale blue sky and banished the chill of morning. They hadn't slept the night before and Ryo felt his eyes sting as he tried to keep them open. They sat on a small set of wooden bleachers that enabled them to see the card game. Mokuba called out each card on his megaphone. It helped, but wasn't near as exciting as holograms.

Kek slumped in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. Ryo caught a side glance at him. Both of them had washed the gore away from their bodies. They had stored enough water and towels to clean up in the warehouse they'd used as cover during the explosion. Now Kek sat in his favorite, red dress and rolled his thistle-colored eyes. "Yugi vs Jonouchi . . . gee, I wonder who will win."

"He might surprise you." Mai smirked.

Ryo and Kek sat several meters away from the rest of the group. No one told them to, Kek had simply chosen a spot above where everyone else sat. Mai shifted up two rows so she could sit next to Ryo. "He's been playing Yugi for years. Yugi wins more, but he doesn't always win."

"He'll win this time, though," Kek said, staring at the scoreboard.

"Yeah. Probably." Mai nodded, but her serious expression faded to a grin. "So, if we were playing FUBAR, would you drink for jacks or queens?"

Ryo laughed. They'd played the game a few times during the week with bottles of champagne they found and decided to drink as part of their "honeymoon".

Kek snorted. "Both. The point of that game is to get drunk and I play to win."

Mai laughed with Ryo, then, shaking her head at her own amusement. "Oh, we have to be friends now because I want to play and see if I can outdrink you."

Ryo grinned. "He giggles when he's drunk – a lot! It's the most precious thing I've ever seen in my life."

"So what? You're a cuddly drunk."

Mai winked. "He's got you there. You are a very cuddly drunk. Shit, we need to celebrate when all this zombie nonsense is over. You guys missed out last time. Seto gave Mokuba the keys to his wine cellar. We drank absinthe until Jonouchi puked into a bucket. It was amazing."

"Bet you my lipstick that I can find a more scandalous dress than you can to wear."

"We wear the same shade so I'll take that bet! It's really hard to find that brand anymore."

Ryo rolled his eyes. "You may lose that wager, Kek. You haven't seen Mai's closet."

Kek's expression dropped. At the same time Ryo realized the problem. There wouldn't be any celebration parties for Kek.

"So why aren't either of you in the Duel?" Mai asked, unaware of the look Ryo shared with Kek.

Kek shook his head, his eyes wide and nervous from her question. "It makes me sick. Too much Shadow Magic." He hugged himself with his arms. "Not to mention the last time I played I ended up in the Shadow Realm."

Mai shot him an evil smile. "Don't you _hate_ when that happens? I know I do. It's one of the reasons I wasn't exactly volunteering to participate in another Battle City."

Ryo frowned, unable to comment either way to Mai's statement.

Kek folded his hands into his lap and leaned forward until his nose almost brushed against his knees. "I haven't forgotten . . . what I did to you back then . . ."

Mai rolled her eyes. "C'mon, I have to give you a hard time about it."

Kek spoke low. "You should hate me for it."

"Well, maybe." The wind picked up and Mai's hair blew into her face. She pushed it away. "But at least you didn't bite my face off, and a lot of people have literally tried to in the last couple of years. An afternoon in the Shadow Realm really isn't as scary now as it was back then." A humorless laugh broke away from her mouth. "I wish I was joking, but I'm not."

"That's true," Ryo muttered, looking neither at Mai or Kek. "I'll take monsters in the dark anytime over seeing a dead toddler walking down the street eating her kitten."

"Don't worry," Kek whispered. "It's almost over, right?"

Ryo balled his hands into fists. "Yeah, but when you put it like that . . . I'd rather keep all the zombies."

"Are you crazy?" Mai hissed, trying to keep her voice down so the others could focus on the duel. "You can't _mean_ that."

Ryo glanced at Kek. "I do mean it."

"It's not quite as fun as the video games, Ryo."

"I've noticed."

"Hey."

Mai tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Ryo turned his eyes towards her. He couldn't believe how tired he felt – worse than a single sleepless night. It was as if he felt the effects of every sleepless night he'd ever had, both the nights crying for his mother and sister, and the nights staring at the dark, angry that his father died protecting him.

And now he was going to be alone again.

He told himself not alone. He looked at Mai, and behind her the rest of his friends, and told himself not alone, but he felt alone.

Mai frowned. "Ryo?"

He tried to smile at her. He used to be so good at faking smiles even when he was sad, but he'd spent too much time away from people and forgot how mold his face in a false way. On his other side Kek continued to sit almost folded in half, as if praying to the gods to stay.

A cheer from beside them interrupted the conversation. Ryo looked at the card table and realized that Yugi had just summoned a third monster to the field. That made Ryo glad that they could only see cards on a table instead of holograms, because Ryo had no desire to see Slifer again.

"How many cards does Yugi have in his hand?" Kek asked, also distracted by the game.

"Four," Mai answered.

"Not bad."

Mai nodded towards the game. "But do you notice Jonouchi's face? He has something planned."

Yugi leaned over and said something to Mokuba; Mokuba announced that Yugi ended his turn. He recapped the players LP and what monsters they had on the field. Kek frowned. "Why didn't he use them as tribute? You think he doesn't have the card in his hand?"

Mai sighed. "I think he see's the shit-eating grin on Jonouchi's face. He's waiting because he knows if he does, Jonouchi will spring his trap too soon and then it'll be easier to counter. That damn, adorable fool never really did learn how to be patient."

Jonouchi's grin doubled in size when his turn came. He tried to use The Law of Normal to kill Yugi's tribute fodder and force him to discard his hand, and it would have been a great move if Yugi hadn't countered it with a Dark Illusion trap card. Afterward, it didn't take long for Yugi to wipe out Jonouchi's level one and two monsters, wearing down Jonouchi's life points in the process. Jonouchi stalled with some clever spells and traps, but by the time Yugi summoned Slifer, he only needed one attack to win the game.

The two duelists stood up and met next to the table. Yugi raised his hand for a handshake, but Jonouchi grabbed him in a bear hug instead, ruffling Yugi's hair as well. They laughed, chatting excitedly to each other as Mokuba cleaned the white board and set it up for the next duel.

Kek clapped. "Congratulations!" he called with one part sincerity and two parts facetiousness in his voice. "We've made it through an entire battle without anyone being placed in a coma!"

"Let's keep our fingers crossed," Ryo added.

* * *

Atem sat with his legs crossed at the card table. He stared at the clouds while he shuffled. He was nervous about a lot of things. Would Bakura find Kamenwati? Would anyone get hurt in the duel? But of all the things he was worried about, his match with Seto wasn't one of them. Atem knew he'd progress to the second level, hoped that he'd fight Kamenwati in the second round of the tournament and defeat him. Bakura had promised Marik that he would return before the second round. If he brought back Kamenwati's heart it'd all be over. If not, Atem would have to find a way to force the old tomb-keeper to reveal his location during their duel.

In Atem's mind, it was destiny.

Just like before, just like always, Atem defeated his foes and protected his friends. That was his greatest, and most cherished, purpose in life.

Their game went as expected, Kaiba putting out his Blue Eyes White Dragon, Atem using spells to bolster his Dark Magician.

Atem stared at the crowd. Mai and Kek used Ryo's lap as a table as Mai painted Kek's nails bright red. For the most part, they ignored the duel. As for the others, they watched with interest, but Atem heard Jonouchi joke about Atem's inevitable win. Nothing about the game suggested otherwise, his LP stayed higher than Seto's throughout the game.

When Seto placed his third Blue Eyes White Dragon card on the field, Atem smiled. "I know I shouldn't say this, but don't bother."

Seto raised an eyebrow; it was more sexy than Atem wanted to admit.

He shrugged as if he didn't care. "I have Mispolymerization."

"Oh do you?" Seto's voice was silk as he asked the question. "Then I suppose you think I'm going to summon the Blue Eyes Ultimate Dragon?"

Atem rolled his eyes. "What else are you going to do with three Blue Eyes?"

Seto grinned, a rare, true smile on his face. "This." He swiped the cards off of the table and placed them in his graveyard, laying down another card in their place."

Atem uncrossed his legs, sitting up straight. He could hear the excited chatter from the crowd as Mokaba announced the card. "You have Obelisk?"

"Of course I do."

"But how? Yugi pawned that card."

Seto snorted. "While you and your merry band of nerds raced to get six locator cards as fast as you could, I _chose_ my opponents, and only fought those whose cards could benefit me in the tournament. It took longer, but this is the fruit I reaped from waiting. I attack with Obelisk, by the way."

Atem had no choice but to place his Dark Magician in the graveyard, losing a few LP in the process.

"Your turn, Atem."

Atem stared at his hand in shock. He had nothing. The spell cards in his hand wouldn't work against a god, and all the monsters were level six or higher and couldn't be summoned without tribute. Atem's eyes lifted over his cards, his mouth dropped open. "I . . . lost."

Atem turned to the crowd when he heard cheering and whistling. It was Ryo's little group, shouting "two rounds, no casualties" in a continuous chant. He supposed everyone coped with the stress of the tournament in a different way.

"Congratulations, bro." Mokuba laughed as he drew a large, round zero beneath Atem's name. "Took the apocalypse, but you finally beat him!"

* * *

Marik felt like his stomach was filled with a school of piranhas. He knew on the outside he looked collected, but internally he was a wreck. Bakura's absence made it worse than Marik wanted to admit. It struck Marik, hard, that Bakura always stood by his side. Since returning, they were together everyday, but even as far back as the first Battle City – Bakura had stood next to Marik, fighting his battles as if they were his own. Bleeding from a self inflicted knife wound, weak from enduring Slifer's blast, nothing detoured Bakura, and having to stand on the stage alone while Mokuba wrote his and Ishizu's names on the large white board killed Marik inside.

"Good luck, brother." Ishizu's voice sounded calm behind him, but he knew his sister wasn't any happier about the match than he was.

He gave her a smile. "I don't believe in luck in tournaments. Bakura threw Ra out the window in the middle of a rainstorm, but it's still in my deck."

"Then may fate smile upon you."

"And you."

And fate would favor Ishizu. Marik would make sure of it. He and Rishid had devised a plan to get Ishizu out of the finals as soon as possible, and it couldn't have been luck that Marik fought her in the first round.

Mokuba tossed a coin. Marik knew he'd win the coin toss. He didn't believe in luck anymore.

He went first.

He used Double Summon to put a Substitoad and a Swap Frog on the field. Marik then used Swap Frog as tribute to special summon an additional frog card; he repeated the cycle until he had 18 frogs in his graveyard, making sure Ronintoadin was one of those cards.

Ishizu frowned, knowing Marik well enough to know he was activating some sort of scheme. Marik didn't look at his sister. He placed Mass Driver in his spell zone. With that card he could tribute a monster in order to deal 400 damage to his opponent.

"I'm going to sacrifice my Substitoad and Flip Flop Frog in order to use Mass Driver's ability and do 800 damage."

Mokuba announced the move on his megaphone, dropping Ishizu's LP down to 7,200.

Marik's eyes flicked to his graveyard. He tapped Ronintoadin with his pointer finger. "Ronintoadin lets me remove any frog monster from my graveyard in order to special summon Ronintoadin back into play." He slid Ronintoadin back to his first monster slot. "And now I can use it with Mass Driver to deal 400 points of damage and put it back in the graveyard."

Mokuba changed Ishizu's LP to 6,800. Ishizu narrowed her eyes. The familiar Ishtar anger burned in her gaze, and Marik didn't blame her. It was a dirty trick, something he would have loved to do to Bakura in order to start one of their epic arguments that ended with them naked and on the floor, but not something he should have done during a tournament. Marik didn't care. She was his sister, and he wanted her safe, and that meant out of the tournament.

"You see what I'm doing, right? I have enough cards in my graveyard to do this until—"

Ishizu slammed both her hands down on the card table. "Marik, that's bullshit!"

Marik's eyes widened. "Ishizu, did you just swear?" He chuckled. "Sorry, I know I'm an asshole, but a win is still a win."

She turned her burning gaze to Mokuba. "Can't you do something? It's obviously a degenerate deck."

Mokuba shrugged. "Sorry, Ishizu, there was talk of banning Substitoad and Mass Driver, but zombies sorta ate everyone before it became official. Marik's deck is legal. Dirty, but legal."

"Fine." Ishizu sighed, her anger melting to sorrow and that was more difficult for Marik to cope with. "I lose, but it's not right, Marik. I wanted to eliminate you so you couldn't get hurt."

"Same here, sis."

"I'm older."

"Yes, but I'm an asshole that doesn't mind using a dirty trick, so I win."

Ishizu sighed again, standing up as Mokuba swiped her LP off of the board. Marik felt bad for her, but he couldn't help smiling because she was out of the tournament, and that had been the right thing to do.

He heard ridiculous cheering. Marik frowned at the bleachers where non-finalists sat. Ryo, Kek, and Mai sat stomping their feet in a four count rhythm and chanting "no casualties, no casualties, no casualties". It was annoying enough with the three of them doing it, but Marik noticed Yugi giggling in the finalist seating. He started stomping his feet and chanting with them and that got almost everyone going. Even the girl Marik had seen around Market Town joined in.

Marik snorted and sat back down, refusing to play along when he knew Kamenwati was the next to duel and their no-casualty cheering would die on their lips. Even in his brooding, he wished Bakura was there to join him.

* * *

Mokuba's palms sweated as he wrote the last two names down for the first round of the finals – Kamenwati on one side, Natsumi on the other, 8,000 below each name. He glanced over his shoulder as she approached.

"Do your best, okay?" He smiled at her, feeling like an asshole, feeling like he was petting a lamb before it went to slaughter.

"Thank you." She smiled back at him, making him feel worse.

They shuffled and cut each other's decks. Kamenwati won the coin toss to go first, and that's when it happened. Only a few puffy clouds sat in the sky, but the world somehow grew dark. Not as bad as when Yugi had the Puzzle, but dark enough to turn Mokuba's bowels into ice water.

It was odd . . . what things from one's childhood could trigger a person as an adult. For example, Gozaburo's cologne, Mokuba considered himself a grown damn man, but every time he smelt Clive Christian's No. 1 drifting from silk ties and cashmere suits, Mokuba wanted to curl into a ball and hide. Their adopted father had not been a kind man, especially to Seto, and his smell somehow became part of that cruelty in Mokuba's mind.

It was worse now with the darkness, rather the dimness. Even weakened, Mokuba felt a sense of stupid dread sink deep into his body and deeper still into his mind. He hated the Shadows.

Kamenwati placed a card face down in defense mode and ended his turn. Mokuba announced the move. He felt like a robot executing a program instead of a person acting on choice.

Natsumi placed her own card face down, also ending her turn. To someone who didn't know better, it would appear to be a normal duel, just like the three before it; however Mokuba knew better. Kamenwati was first to attack. He only did 300 damage, but once he declared the attack, Natsumi gasped as if punched in the gut.

Mokuba watched her face, sweat dabbed her forehead. Her cute mouth twisted in acute discomfort . . . but it was only 300 damage. Mokuba lowered his megaphone, whispering to the girl beside him. "It's not your imagination. You _felt_ his attack."

She glanced at him. Her frown deepened. "How?"

He shook his head. "Magic. Dark magic. You're in a Shadow Game."

She frowned. "Everyone in Market Town he fought . . . died. Not right away, a day or two later, but they all died. I knew something wasn't right."

"You can still forfeit," Mokuba blurted out before he could stop himself. The hope that she'd listen grew wild in his chest, better for her to forfeit than get hurt.

"Boy," Kamenwati scolded Mokuba like a librarian warning a loud child to be quiet.

"It's my job to make sure all the rules are understood," Mokuba snapped. Creepy, tomb-keeper necromancer be damned, _he_ was Mokuba Kaiba and _he_ wasn't going to be bullied when _his job_ was to moderate the duel. He turned back to the girl.

"What happens if my LP drops to zero?"

Kamenwati smiled. "You will be reborn."

The megaphone dropped from Mokuba's hand. He'd suspected penalty games, comas, death, but reanimation? No. "You can't do that!"

"And if I beat you?" she asked.

"You get a wish."

"You called them, didn't you? Those things, they were drawn to you. More undead appeared around Market Town as soon as rumors of a robed man started circulating."

"Yes."

"If I win, can I demand you to make them go away?"

Kamenwati nodded. "If you win, I'll grant your wish."

Her expression turned grim, determined. "Declare your end phase, so I can start my turn."

* * *

Kek rubbed his temples, pulling his knees into his chest. "Fuck Shadow Games. I hate them now. How is he even doing this without an Item?"

"He has the Millennium Spellbook," Mai explained.

"Stupid, lazy-ass gods, why don't they just grab it away from him, smack him upside the head, and tell him no. That would solve everything. Why use the Pharaoh and me to do something they could fix themselves quicker and easier?"

Mai folded her hands into her lap and spoke with a somber tone. "Because the gods have a plan for us and everything happens for a reason."

Kek blinked at her. "You really think so?"

She gave him a bitter laugh. "No, I think the gods are assholes."

Ryo winced, hiding his eyes behind his hand. "Dammit, she just lost another 1,000 LP."

Even from the bleachers, Kek saw that Mokuba's hand shook as he erased the 5,000 and wrote 4,000 in its place. The girl still lead the game, Kamenwati down to 3,600 LP, but the toll of the Shadow Game was apparent on her face. Her breath came in ragged jerks of her chest, her hair fell into her face and clung to the sweat on her brow, and her skin was almost as pale as Ryo's.

Kek frowned. He remembered when the sight of so much suffering would send him laughing up at the dark sky, but he was Marik then. As Kek, he didn't want to see it, nor did he want Shadows creeping around half seen as he and Ryo sat in the bleachers.

Natsumi attacked, Kamenwati countered with a trap card, but she had her own trap card waiting for him. When everything was resolved, another 600 LP came off of Kamenwati's total, bringing him down to 3,000.

"She's really good," Mai whispered, "but I'm still glad it's not me. I'm not sure I could handle another Shadow Game ever again."

"I know what you mean," Kek whispered as if speaking any louder would awaken the shadows hazing their vision.

He watched the game with held breath, praying against all hope that the girl, Natsumi, would somehow win. He heard himself cheering and encouraging her as if he were one of Yugi's idiot friends, but he couldn't stop himself. He didn't know the girl, but that didn't matter. She fought the Shadows, the same Shadows Kek grew to hate as he suffered alone in the darkness before Isis offered him an _ib,_ and that made him cheer for Natsumi. However, as they volleyed turns back and forth, Kamenwati began to play more aggressively, ripping away at Natsumi's LP until she was left with 1,200.

And that's when Kek realized that Kamenwati was killing her. In a regular game she probably would have won, but they played a Shadow Game. Each hit tore away at her mind and body, making her weaker while Kamenwati grew stronger.

When her LP dropped to 300, she fainted. Kek jumped to his feet, watching as Mokuba dropped to his knees in order to cradle the girl in his arms. He spoke to her, trying to wake her up.

Kamenwati stayed calm, but his voice carried over to the bleachers. "If she doesn't wake up by the end of her turn, then her turn ends and I'll declare my final attack – ending the game as well as her life."

"Her turn's not over yet!" Mokuba shouted.

Kek closed his eyes, panic screaming in his head. "Nope. Nope. Nope. This is not happening." Kek shook his head, unable to accept what he was about to witness. If the girl turned he'd have to kill her. She hadn't been a corpse to begin with; she was a living person, and Kek didn't want to kill someone he saw as living. The tension snapped in his mind and he started running down the bleachers. "Fuck this!"

Kek's boots thudded against the wooden planks below him. He heard Ryo and Mai following him.

Ryo called from behind. "Kek! What are you doing?"

He didn't turn back or slow down, but he did answer. "What someone should have done to me during the last Battle City!"

Everyone else stood up from their seats as Kek ran onto the stage. Kamenwati scowled at him. "What are you—"

Kek didn't give the bastard time to finish the question. He cocked his fist back and hooked. His blow landed clean against the side of the old man's head and he dropped unconscious to the ground, nothing more than dead weight. As soon as Kamenwati fell, the Shadows and the dim wrongness around them faded, allowing the warm summer day to return.

Kek rubbed his knuckles as Ryo and Mai helped Mokuba carry the girl to one of eight stretchers set off to the side of the stage near the bleachers (Seto obviously expecting casualties after what happened the first time).

Said CEO stood and frowned at Kek. "You do realize you just got her disqualified?"

"Fuck you, Kaiba. I don't give two shits about your stupid card games. I was the one that was going to have to take her out if she changed, and I don't want blood on another dress, so you can kiss my sweet ass."

Seto's expression turned hard. "It wasn't your place to interfere. She knew the odds and she made her choice."

"Seto, he saved her," Mokuba protested, going back to the whiteboard to clean the names and scores.

"Watching his end game would have given us valuable information on his strategy – information we could use to defeat him."

Kek growled, fingernails digging into his palms because of how tight he clenched his hands. "Fuck your tactics, fuck your strategy, and fuck your logic! Maybe you can sit there and watch someone die, but that's not who _I am_! I hate you! I fucking hate all of you! You pick and choose who you protect and sacrifice everyone else like they're level four cards you can just tribute for the sake of winning! I fucking hate you!"

Blind with emotion and rage, Kek turned to the unconscious tomb-keeper laying on the stage. His emotions from the moment, and his emotions from the past week crashed into one another and exploded. Kek kicked the man's ribs with his black boots. "Especially you, mother fucker! I hate you! Why did you raise the dead! You should have left them alone! I should still be in the Shadows! If I didn't have a heart, it wouldn't be breaking!"

Tears burned in his eyes. He tried to blink the pain and heat away, but it didn't help. He ran, unable to bear being near people at that moment. He ran to the end of the stage and leapt into ashes, blind and sprinting in whichever direction he landed.


	34. Chapter 33

Atem closed his eyes. He understood Seto's logic, but he was glad Kek had interfered.

And ashamed that he hadn't.

Maybe Kek was right.

No one moved Kamenwati's body from the stage floor. Atem wanted to go kick it a few times as Kek had, but he forced himself to sit back into his chair.

Mokuba picked up the megaphone to make sure everyone heard him. "That ends round one. We'll take an hour recess. I'll announce the round two line-up after I randomly select it."

He let the megaphone drop out of his hand again, and sat at the card table with a notebook. Mokuba gathered Natsumi's cards and stacked them into a careful pile before he started writing on a sheet of paper.

"I'm glad," Yugi spoke beside Atem. "I was hoping she'd win. I really thought she'd open her eyes and think of something. I mean, she was doing so well until the end, but I'm glad Kek saved her."

"Me too." Atem nodded.

Then Atem noticed Bakura, seeing him even as Marik shouted his name. Bakura stumbled onto the stage as if drunk, crashing down to his knees and bowing his head. Marik sprinted to him and held his shoulders. Atem ran to them as well, needing to know if Bakura found anything useful.

"Are you okay?" Marik pushed white hair away from Bakura's forehead.

A crooked grin spread across Bakura's face, but his eyelids hung low over his eyes. "Shit, this is nothing . . ." he paused a moment, his expression growing more sombre. "I just used too much of my _ba_ searching the city for that bastard. Give me a nap and a blow job and I'll be 100% again."

Atem held his breath, waiting for Bakura to answer.

Bakura frowned, staring at his bent knees. "Even with Diabound going through walls and checking buildings. I couldn't find him. After a rest, I can go back out—"

"Like hell you will!" Marik interrupted.

Atem nodded. "He's right. It won't do any good if you pass out while searching."

"Fuck you," Bakura snapped at Atem. "I won't pass out."

"Bakura, you know what happens if you use too much _ba_ in order to maintain your _ka_."

"Last time I checked, my mother was still in Aaru not standing in front of me."

"You can look all you want, you won't find me." The three of them jerked towards the card table where Kamenwati sat on the ground rubbing his head where Kek hit him. "Many of Kaiba's guards who are searching the city have already joined my ranks. The only way I'll tell you where I am is if one of you defeat me in a duel." He smiled, warm and grandfatherly, at Atem. "Well, not you. You've been eliminated." His smile shifted towards Marik. "You, perhaps?"

Bakura lunged towards Kamenwati, but both Marik and Atem held him back. Bakura smacked Atem's hands away, but tolerated Marik's hold. Mokuba, still sitting at the table next to Kamenwati, slammed his notebook down to end the conversation. He picked his megaphone back up from the ground where he dropped it. "Okay . . . I have the new line up . . ."

He tossed the megaphone on the table, glaring at his brother, eyes red-rimmed with emotion but he didn't weep. "Kek's right, Seto. Fuck your tactics and your logic. I . . . I chose the names at random. I don't like it. I hate it, but I kept it random because I knew you'd want me to."

Seto's face didn't change from his neutral expression as he looked at his brother. "Spit it out, Mokuba."

Mokuba looked at the megaphone, considering if he should use it or not. He shook his head, wiping his face and forcing his composure to return. He spoke loudly so everyone heard him. "Round two . . . Marik Ishtar versus Yugi Motou, and Kamenwati versus Seto Kaiba. We have forty-five more minutes."

Atem felt himself sway on his feet. He didn't know what he had expected, if not Seto, then Marik or Yugi, and none of those people were people Atem wanted to see hurt, but hearing Seto's name called made Atem's breath freeze in his chest.

* * *

Mai didn't think when she chased after Kek. He ran, and she followed with Ryo behind her. He dashed across the street to a building half blown away from the Stadium explosion, curling into a ball and pressing himself against the remainder of a brick wall. He cried into his knees, staining the skirt of his dress darker red where the tears fell.

Still acting on instinct, Mai grabbed his shoulders to comfort him. "Shhh, shhhh, sweetie, it's okay. You did the right thing. Kaiba's just a dick – don't pay attention to him."

He only shook his head, unable to speak as he sobbed himself close to hyperventilation. The grief pouring from his mouth was so raw, that Mai felt her own eyes tear up just watching him. He tried to kill her – he sent her to the Shadows – she wasn't stupid, but she couldn't help but feel for him. Mai wrapped her arms full around Kek's shoulders. He shook his head no to repel her; she wasn't sure if it was because he wasn't used to comfort, or if it was because he felt bad that _she_ comforted him, but she didn't let go. Instead, she squeezed him harder and whispered _shhhh_ in his hair.

Ryo knelt beside them, petting Kek's hair but allowing Mai to hold him. "It's not really about Kaiba," Ryo whispered.

"Ryo, what's going on?"

Ryo sighed. "Kek's only here as long as the undead are."

Mai's mouth dropped open. Ryo's earlier statement about wanting to keep all the zombies came back to her. "Why?"

Ryo shook his head. "That's just the deal the gods made with him. A heart, a soul, in exchange for culling the undead."

Ryo closed his eyes, and Mai watched the sorrow on Ryo's face.

"I'm sorry," Mai said to Ryo. It sounded ridiculous, but it was the only thing she knew to say. She held Kek a little tighter as he sobbed. "I'm sorry."

She thought of what Kek had said, about other monsters being used as tribute, and she couldn't help but agree.

 _Spell card, Defeat the Undead. Subscript, pull any fiend card from the graveyard, sacrifice it at the end of the turn in order to activate Defeat Undead. Defeat the Undead sends all undead monster cards to the graveyard._

* * *

Seto stood and walked to where Atem, Marik, and Bakura spoke in low tones. "Atem."

He could already see it in his plum eyes. Atem wasn't happy. "It should be me," Atem said. "It should be me."

"But it's not, because I beat you." Seto narrowed his blue eyes. "I don't care if my life points drop down to 1/3 of 1 point – _do not interfere._ I'm going to beat him, and I don't need any of you morons distracting me." He shifted his gaze to Marik. "And you need to keep your alter ego under heel because I don't want him interfering either."

Marik gave him an irritated huff. "I couldn't control him back when he was part of my own psyche. What the hell makes you think I could do anything to stop him now that he's his own person?"

"Find a way." Seto marched off before Marik could offer a rebuttal. He found his little brother sitting on the edge of the stage, back turned away from everyone else. Seto stood beside him.

"I know. I know. You don't have to give me a lecture. I'm a Kaiba. I need to act like a Kaiba. We have to maintain appearances. Duel Monsters is a mental game and we can't show weakness. You don't care if you drop dead during the tournament, I better stay calm." He clenched his teeth. "Fuck you, Seto, I already know everything you're thinking, so don't bother saying any of it."

He almost smiled. Mokuba knew him well. They'd been through hell and back together during their childhood, so it was no surprise. Seto chose to sit down beside his little brother, staring at the ash and rubble that was once their glorious stadium. "I won't die, so stop wasting energy worrying."

"Nobody _thinks_ they're going to die."

"I've played Shadow Games before."

"Not against this guy."

"That's irrelevant." Seto touched the breast pocket of his suit where his duel monster cards waited for their next match. He could feel her there. Kisara. Her soul still watched over him. She'd given him the power to summon Obelisk and finally defeat Atem, and she would protect him against Kamenwati's Shadow Magic. "I will not die."

"Yeah." Mokuba sighed, trying to hide all the emotion in his face. He turned away so Seto couldn't see his expression. "I should probably check on Natsumi."

Seto, almost on instinct, lifted up his hand and rested it on Mokuba's shoulder.

Mokuba turned, a tired smile on his face. "Geez, bro, don't get all sentimental on me. I love you, too."

A hint of a grin haunted the corner of Seto's mouth. He was glad he had a brother that understood him so well.

* * *

Bakura stumbled, almost slammed onto his knees again, but Marik caught him and growled into his ear. "Dammit, Bakura. You're pale. I can tell you can't breathe, and you don't seem to be able to stand very well either."

"So what? _Ba_ regenerates. I just need to sit down a minute."

Marik dragged Bakura over to the finalist seating and slammed him down in a seat. Ishizu reached into a satchel she carried and pulled out a bottle of water. "Here, drink this. It will help you recover."

Bakura nodded to her as a thanks, and took a large gulp from the water bottle. Diabound's greatest ability wasn't going through walls, hiding in shadows, or even mimicking the attacks of creatures it defeated. No, Diabound's greatest skill was its adaptability. The fact that Bakura's _ka_ could adapt and adjust depending on environment and circumstances. It was the only way Bakura survived his childhood in Egypt. Thus, when he needed a spirit monster that could slip through tomb walls and hide within shadows in order for him to rob dead kings – that's what Diabound could do, and when he saw Marik and Rishid surrounded by undead, and he had to do something to help before Marik was torn apart – Diabound started glowing and his light drove the undead away.

But power always came at a cost. Bakura knew that well enough. Every skill took _ba_ to use, and although Bakura would never admit it, he _had_ passed out during his search. He'd dropped to the street and saw a vision of his mother standing in the Field of Reeds, frowning at him and shaking her head _no_. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the half-eaten face of a corpse leaning down with her jaw wide-open. Bakura grabbed her throat, adrenaline the only reason he managed to throw the woman off of him and bash her head against the curb of the sidewalk.

Bakura stared down at the chewed and mangled body. She had been the first zombie he'd actually killed. Usually, he used Diabound the drive them off. Sometimes, Marik, Rishid, and even Ishizu would kill them with their khopesh swords. Never had Bakura directly killed one. He was the child of ghosts and of skeletons. He did not kill the undead.

With a trembling hand, Bakura closed the corpse's eyes. He thought, in a vague, macabre way, that he didn't need to open her mouth because the woman had stopped moving with her mouth still stretched wide and desperate for a bite of the living world. He remembered what Kek said about releasing them to be judged, and he remembered what Amane said about the dead needing to die twice before going to Aaru.

Standing up and swaying, Bakura looked around, and realized he had failed once more. He failed to find the old tomb-keeper. He failed to save Marik, once again, from the fate of a Battle City tournament, and Bakura was so sick of failing at everything he tried to do.

And now Marik fawned over him like he was invalid. Bakura slapped Marik's hands away and argued, but it only seemed to drive Marik to be more coddling and insufferable. Marik leaned close; Bakura felt the sweat drops on his shoulders from the summer heat. Bakura sighed and leaned against Marik's sweat-speckled shoulder, allowing his eyes to close as Marik combed his bronzed fingers through Bakura's hair.

A voice interrupted their moment. "He's not a finalist and belongs in the bleachers with the others."

" _You_ go sit in the bleachers, Kaiba. He's staying here."

"The way he looks, he should go lie on one of the stretchers."

"He's _fine_."

"I can also speak for myself." Bakura interrupted Marik and opened his eyes, looking at Kaiba. "What the hell do you want?"

Seto studied them, his eyes finally settled on Marik. "Do you think you'll beat Yugi during your next match?"

"No," Marik said without so much as a breath of thought.

Seto snorted. "Are you that out of practice?"

Marik shook his head. "I'm going to continue the proud tradition of forfeiting, handing Yugi my god card, and going home, that's all. That was always the plan since the day I got the damn thing."

"Why didn't you just give it to him before?"

"I . . ." An angry look twisted on Marik's face. "I was afraid. This thing has a bad habit of coming back to me, and if I didn't join the tournament then Rishid might have in order to try and defeat Ishizu . . . it was better if I just accepted my role in this."

"And you think Yugi will just accept the card?"

Marik shrugged. "Worked well last time. You still haven't answered Bakura's question. What do you want?"

Seto glanced at the other end of the two rows of chairs where Atem and Yugi spoke. "Look . . . I know I'm an asshole, and you two are as well. Nevertheless none of us want . . ." Seto gestured out into the wasteland of ash, rubble, and fallen corpses surrounding the last-minute stage. "None of us want _this._ Isn't that why we're all here, in the same place without trying to kill each other?"

"What's your point?" Bakura snapped, mostly because he didn't like the truth in Seto's statement. Helping Marik was well enough, but he'd been helping Atem far more than Bakura liked, and Seto was right. No one wanted live in a broken world – rule over it as a dark god, perhaps, but that wasn't the same as living in it.

"The only way to fix things is to destroy the undead. Kamenwati's heart is the key to undoing the spell. My guards couldn't find him – you couldn't find him – but he said he'd tell us where he is if we defeat him in a duel."

"If we trust him to uphold his end of that offer," Marik said. "I don't."

Seto seemed to mull the option over in his mind. "I do. Not because he can be trusted, but because this is a sort of game to him, and I think that offer is part of his set of rules."

Seto crouched into a squat, resting his arms on his bent knees and looking at them eye-level. Bakura found the gesture odd. Seto always stood, glaring down at others from his impressive height. Bakura straightened himself away from Marik's side, matching Seto's gaze – Seto had managed to catch Bakura's attention.

"I don't plan on losing," Seto said in a flat tone, "but only a fool doesn't plan for all scenarios. If I'm defeated, that means either Marik or Yugi will face Kamenwati in the last round."

"Yugi," Marik said, again without hesitation.

"And that means Yugi needs to pay attention to my duel – he needs to see Kamenwati's tactics so he knows how best to counter them."

Marik sighed. "And that means Atem can't play knight in shining armor and try and save you if you get hurt."

"Exactly. I told him not to interfere, but I know he won't listen to me if things go badly."

Bakura glanced over at the former Pharaoh. Yugi was showing his cards, whispering, his free hand waving in excited gestures as he explained something about his deck. Atem kept a grave expression, nodding his head to show he understood Yugi's plan.

Bakura faked a grin. "He already hates me. Won't hurt my feelings any if he hates me a little more."

A strange, mask-like expression covered Seto's face. He looked away. "Don't hurt him too much."

Bakura shook his head. "You're the one that's going to hurt him."

* * *

Jonouchi leaned against a jut of ruin that was once a building. He watched Mai whisper random, useless comforts at Marik's alter ego as Ryo leaned against his shoulder and held his hand. Jonouchi didn't like Kek . . . he didn't _want_ to like him, but punching Kamenwati, ending the tomb-keeper's Shadow Game, and saving Natsumi's life made it hard for Jonouchi to not feel at least a little respect for him. Hell, the enemy of your enemy . . .

He decided to let them know he watched them by speaking. "There's less than twenty minutes before the next round. We should go back and support Yugi and Marik in their duel."

Mai looked up, surprised to see Jonouchi. Her mouth looked perfect and red. Jonouchi had always loved her mouth more than any other feature. He noticed her mascara was smudged. Tearing Mai up wasn't easy, and Jonouchi wondered what managed to do it. He decided not to ask.

"I'm fine," Kek tried his best to growl out the words, but even Jonouchi noticed there wasn't any malice in his tone.

She stood up, dusting her jeans and walking over to Jonouchi. "Sorry, I didn't mean to run off," she muttered.

Jonouchi shrugged. "I wasn't worried." He tilted his chin towards Ryo and Kek. "Are they okay?"

Mai glanced over her shoulder, turning back to face Jonouchi. "We should let them be alone for a little while."

Jonouchi nodded his head. He was dumb, not stupid; he could tell something was wrong, but thought it might be better if he didn't know. He wrapped his arm around Mai's waist and escorted her back to the stage.

* * *

Marik walked up to the card table. Yugi smiled at him. "Good luck, Marik."

"I don't need luck." He extended his god card out towards Yugi. "Here. Take it."

Yugi frowned. "I can't. I haven't won yet."

"Yes you have. I forfeit."

Yugi shook his head. "Marik, you can't do that."

"Yes I can. I just did." Marik exhaled a loud huff of air from his chest. "Yugi, once again the Ishtars have done our duty as tomb-keepers. We risked our lives to track Kamenwati here. Bakura gave you the Tome, and now I'm giving the the Winged Dragon of Ra. Please, Yugi, let me go home. I'm tired of card games. I just want to pull weeds out of the garden with Bakura."

Yugi looked sad. "I know Marik, I know. I want to do the same with Anzu, but we have to play this tournament through."

"Why?"

"Because last time you should have beat me. Beat me and Atem. You were the better player, Marik. The only reason we won was because you forfeited. Look, if Seto wins, it won't matter which one of us plays him, but . . ." Yugi paused, swallowed, and forced himself to continue. "But if Kamenwati wins, then the strongest among us needs to fight him." Yugi looked straight at Marik. "If Kamenwati wins he'll have one god card. We can't afford for him to get the others." Yugi shook his head. "I'm not asking you to do this as a tomb-keeper, Marik. I'm asking you to do this as my friend."

"Yugi, for the gods' sakes, I have a frog deck. I never planned to play a serious game. I only wanted to get far enough to make sure you or Atem got Ra and then quit."

"You know luck and fate have as much to do with these games as decks and skill."

"Yes, I do know that . . . that's why the thought of playing you horrifies me."

Yugi gave Marik a rueful smile. "I know. I feel the same. Everything inside of me wishes I could just hide in my soul room and let Atem handle this – like I did when I first put on the Puzzle, but we're not kids anymore, Marik. We can't hide from our lives. We just have to try and do the right thing."

Marik glanced at Bakura. He sat slumped with his elbows propped against his knees and his chin resting on top of the platform of his palms. By his expression, Marik knew Bakura could hear his and Yugi's conversation. Marik watched him a moment, eager to see some excuse in Bakura's face that would allow them to run from everything and go back to their little brick house with its glass roof and garden, but he found nothing, neither excuse nor reason to leave. What he saw in Bakura's expression is what he always saw ever since their partnership began – Bakura had Marik's back no matter what Marik chose to do. If Marik decided to play, Bakura would sit there and watch the game, and if Marik wanted to burn the stage down and murder everyone there, Bakura would grab a lighter in one hand and his dagger in the other, and if Marik wanted a piggyback ride home, Bakura would probably do that too, though he'd act like he hated doing it.

It was infuriating.

Marik's eyes flicked back to Yugi. "I don't know what Kamenwati's ultimate plan for a world of corpses is, but like Seto said earlier – none of us want to see the world like this. Get your deck."


	35. Chapter 34

"I'm fine. I'm fine," Kek muttered, his face now buried into Ryo's hair. "We shouldn't be wasting time like this."

Ryo answered by planting a kiss on the side of his neck. "Hey Kek?"

Kek dried his eyes. "What?"

"Let's get out of here."

"We're suppose to be guarding everyone from the undead."

"Yeah, and we did."

"He can summon more."

"But I don't think he will." Ryo frowned. "He's too amiable to this entire tournament. I think he's up to something."

Kek grinned. "Wanna scout Domino and find out where's he stashing his extras?"

Ryo shook his head. "I want to do whatever will make you happy." Ryo pressed their hands together, making sure their rings clinked as he did it. "If you're fed up with killing zombies – let's quit. Let's go find a park and swing on a tire swing until Kamenwati burns the entire world or Atem saves it." Ryo leaned closer, pressing their foreheads together. "I don't even care which. The apocalypse means nothing because my world ends the moment you leave it."

"I have to help finish this." Kek sighed. ". . . Isis brought me back for a reason."

"Who cares?" Ryo screamed, almost shrieked. "Why should you care about the gods when they don't fucking care about us!"

Kek reached out, brushing his fingers against Ryo's porcelain cheek. "Because . . ." Kek tilted his head against the brick wall behind him, looking at the sky and laughing like a maniac for a hysterical moment.

 _Figures_.

Only now, with a world gone mad, did he feel like he truly saw things clearly. "I've covered myself with more blood than I ever thought possible, and I'm sick of it. No more dying. No more mourning. I have to leave the world, but I don't want anyone else to die, and if we don't stop Kamenwati I think everyone else will die."

He turned towards Ryo, kissing his pale mouth. Once he started, he couldn't seem to pull away until his lungs burned and he had to gasp for air. "Come on," he whispered against Ryo's mouth. "Let's find out what Kamenwati is really up to and fuck up his plans."

* * *

The longer Marik played, the closer Bakura seemed to scoot his chair towards the card table. "What the hell are you doing, Marik? That was obviously a trap card!" Bakura screamed.

"Bakura, I can't _think_ with you bitching every time I have a turn!"

"Ha! Now you know how I felt during the last Battle City."

"That was completely different!"

"How? How was it different?"

Marik grinned. "My suggestions were useful."

"No they weren't!"

"Yes they were!"

"Then why did I lose against _both_ the Pharaoh and your crazy other half?"

"Because you suck at Duel Monsters?"

"I suck? _You're_ the one getting his ass kicked right now!"

Marik scowled. "That's because you won't shut up for a even one minute!"

A horn blew. Everyone covered their ears at the piercing noise. Mokuba lowered his megaphone once he had everyone's attention. "Marik. That's your third and final warning for talking during your match. You and Bakura get into it one more time and I'm disqualifying you. Don't you dipshits get how serious this is?"

"It's no more serious than the last Battle City, really." Marik licked his fingers before drawing a new card and setting down Magical Mallet in order to reshuffle three cards from his hand back into the deck and then pull three more cards. During his second battle phase, he summoned a Swap Frog.

His next round, Marik got Mass Driver. "I'm going to tribute my Frog the Jam to do 400 points of damage." He wasn't using his one turn kill against Yugi, but didn't see any reason to avoid Mass Driver altogether.

"But Marik, you have three frogs on the field," Yugi said.

Marik looked up from his cards. "So?"

"So summon Ra."

Marik smiled, looking bitter and amused at the same time. "I can't summon a card that isn't in my hand."

"Surely you've drawn him by now."

"I've been using cards like Magic Mallet to try and find it, but nothing has worked so far." Marik gave a single shake of his head. "Funny. Isn't it? Bakura threw it into a fire and out the window, but nothing he did could get rid of that card, and now when Ra would be useful – the damn thing is avoiding me."

Yugi frowned, giving Marik a suspicious look.

Marik's eyes hardened. "Yugi, if I wanted to throw the match all I'd have to do is wink at Bakura and start another argument. Then I'd be disqualified. I'm very sorry, but you're going to win."

Yugi looked away. "I might not win."

Marik smirked. "I know you have Slifer in your hand by the way you expected me to have Ra, and now it's your turn."

". . . you're right." Yugi looked sad as he summoned Slifer. Even with only three cards in Yugi's hand, Slifer was still able to attack Swap Frog and deal the remaining 2,500 points of damage to Marik's LP. Marik didn't have anything strong enough to attack a god. On his next turn, Marik pulled one last card, to see if he might get Ra and play a competitive, last minute game, but he drew Trap Eater. Even if he special summoned it, it couldn't fight Slifer, so Marik settled for flinging his last two frogs at Yugi with Mass Driver to deal 800 damage. He did it more for shits and giggles than useful strategy because the game was lost.

"Don't feel bad, Marik," Bakura called out, "Summoning a plague of frogs didn't work for Moses either."

Marik rolled his eyes at Bakura's lame joke. Yugi sighed. Anyone looking at the shorter duelist would have thought he'd lost instead of won. Marik gave him a sympathetic look. "Sorry, Yugi. I really did try."

Yugi nodded, toying with his cards. "No, I'm sorry. I should have let you give me the card in the first place."

Marik looked for said card. It was the three up from the bottom of his deck. He slid it across the table. "At least this way you know it should be you in the next round. You shouldn't have doubts when you play."

Yugi took the card and slipped it into his own deck, trying to smile. "I don't know why I'm so worried. I'm sure Seto will win next."

"He seems to think he will," Marik said, deliberately choosing his words.

* * *

Seto gave one last glance in Bakura's direction, as if to confirm that Bakura would hold to his word and keep Atem away while Seto dueled Kamenwati. Bakura gave half a nod in Seto's direction before Marik crashed into his lap. Then there was no distracting the former tomb-thief as he berated Marik's sloppy card playing – all the while holding Marik's waist and planting small kisses into Marik's collarbone.

Again, a mixture of disgust and envy fought in Seto's mind as he watched them.

He felt a weight on his arm. Seto turned and saw Atem resting his hand on the sleeve of Seto's suit jacket. Atem flashed Seto one of his grins – that aggravating, smug grin that often pushed Seto to new levels of fury but, at the same time, always drove him to improve.

"You better win," Atem said.

Seto snorted, thinking about how he could wipe that grin away from Atem's face by biting his lower lip and then licking the outline of his mouth. It was tempting, to see exactly how wide he could get Atem's warm violet eyes to grow.

"Of course I'm going to win."

"Good."

Seto leaned closer by mere centimeters. A small amount of space; nonetheless, it was a section of space that he would have given to _no one_ save Atem. A hidden, well concealed delight flashed within the violet of Atem's eyes, and Seto knew that Atem understood.

The corner of Seto's mouth twitched, his version of a cocky grin. He leaned one last centimeter closer. "Pay attention. You're about to see how a real duelist plays."

He stood up and left, but not before noting the way Atem squeezed his arm before letting go. Seto took his seat at the card table, shuffling his deck while cutting Kamenwati's. He felt the power of the Shadows closing in on them, but Seto didn't care. As far as he was concerned, Kamenwati was pathetic, a second rate magician crying out for attention.

He remembered his first Shadow Game, with Atem who, back then, everyone still thought of as Yugi. The thrill, the challenge, the horror and pain as Seto mentally experienced what it was like to be torn to shreds during a Penalty Game. _That_ was something to fear. The dimness surrounding them currently was laughable compared to what Seto had already been through, already survived.

Seto won the coin toss and managed to lay down a trap card and put a monster face down in defense position before ending his turn.

"A spellbook deck," Seto muttered as Kamenwati placed a monster in defense position, probably Spellbook Magician of Prophecy. "Do you think that's clever? Do you think the Tome is just another spellbook for you to play with?"

He didn't engage in Seto's banter. He simply smiled and continued through each phase of play. Seto hated Atem's smirk in a way that made his heart pound in his chest; however, he hated Kamenwati's smile in a way that made the fine hairs on his neck stand up on end. Their game continued, back and forth, with Seto attacking first and maintaining a lead for several rounds. Eventually, Kamenwati was able to boost his Spellbook Magician enough to attack Seto and do damage.

It felt like a knife punched Seto in the gut.

He'd suffered through Shadow Games before, but this time something felt worse . . . felt _wrong_.

Seto coughed, and a spray of blood fanned out across his cards. Seto looked down at the bright scarlet drops and scowled. He pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket and carefully wiped each one of his cards clean even as blood trickled free and unattended from his mouth.

He heard Atem shout something, but chose to ignore him, concentrating on cleaning his cards even as his vision spun. Once each card was taken care of, Seto wiped the blood from his chin and began his turn as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Atem expected Shadows, and he expected Seto uncomfortable and strained as he played his Shadow Game, but the blood was a surprise. Atem held his breath, watching each player's move. Only when Seto lost life points the second time, coughing more blood onto the table, did Atem breathe, gasping out in shock as Seto pushed his chair away from the table in order to avoid spilling more blood on his damn cards.

By the third hit, Atem couldn't handle it. He jumped up, preparing to run to Seto. He didn't know what he'd do, but he had to do _something_. Only, he couldn't. Two pairs of hands grabbed him and kept him from moving. It took Atem a moment to realize Marik and Bakura each had one of his arms.

"What are you doing? Let go!"

"Sit down, Pharaoh," Marik said.

Atem glanced back towards Seto, a smudge of blood soiled the cuff of his shirt and the CEO sat and frowned at the stain, muttering some soft-spoken complaint to Kamenwati, but otherwise didn't seem concerned about the blood still trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Someone needs to help him."

"He's winning. He's fine." Bakura's voice was a low, gravel-toned noise in Atem's left ear.

Atem clenched his fists, preparing to swing at Bakura's face, wondering how Bakura would like a broken nose as payback for the one he gave Atem. Marik must have sensed the tension in Atem's forearm because he held Atem's arm a little tighter and stepped sideways to be in Atem's line of vision instead of off to the side. "Seto told you not to interfere with this battle, remember?"

"I never listen to him." Atem snorted, acting defiant; however, his breath tangled in his lungs and his heart flipped when he heard a unified gasp from the rest of the spectators. Atem leaned as far as he could to see around Marik and at the scoreboard. Atem's eyes closed involuntarily when he realized Seto had managed to summon his first Blue Eyes onto the field. Seto killed Kamenwati's Magician of Prophecy and knocked 2600 LP from Kamenwati's score, bringing the defunct tomb-keeper down to 1400.

"See? He's fine. Sit down."

Atem pulled his eyes away from the scoreboard and glared at Bakura. "Why do you care?"

Bakura scowled. "I don't _care_ , but Seto made a good point. Yugi needs to watch this game played through."

"Look at him," Marik whispered.

Atem's gaze flicked over to his other half. Yugi sat in the front, in the chair that Bakura had moved a little closer to the card table. A serious, yet contemplative, look masked his face.

"You know Seto isn't one to accept defeat," Marik continued, "but he's not stupid. He knows if something happens then Yugi's our last chance. He doesn't want to stop the game, Phara—Atem."

Atem ignored them and watched the game instead. With the Blue Eyes, Seto could win in his next turn. Atem watched, trying to keep his breathing steady even as his pulse throbbed in his ears. Kamenwati drew a card and smiled. Something about the warm smile sent cold chills up and down Atem's spine.

Kamenwati banished two cards from his graveyard in order to special summon Chaos Sorcerer and used its effect to send Kaiba's Blue Eyes to the graveyard. He then used a Spellbook of Life to special summon his Spellbook Magician of Prophecy back from the graveyard and attack Seto. It was only 500 damage, only 500 damage and Seto still had 4,500 life left; however, Seto fell out of his chair as if physically struck. The CEO lay against wooden planks, vomiting blood.

Atem screamed and lunged towards him again. It took both Marik and Bakura holding him down to keep him from moving forward. At the same time, Mokuba's resolve broke. He dropped his professional game ref persona, crashing to his knees on the blood smeared floor and bracing his brother up to a sitting position. Seto pushed Mokuba away, growling curses as he climbed back into his seat.

His bangs hung low over his blue eyes. His face twisted into a pained scowl. Nevertheless, Seto Kaiba wasted no time. He used the sleeve of his jacket, already ruined with blood stains, to wipe his mouth and then used his handkerchief to wipe away any blood splatters on his hands.

He slammed down Swing of Memories onto the card table and then pulled his Blue Eyes from the graveyard. "I attack your Magician."

Everyone around them cheered, sure that Seto had won the game. Expressionless, Kamenwati flipped a card face-up, revealing Mirror Force, negating Seto's attack.

"Son-of-a-bitch," Mokuba cursed, smashing his eyes shut.

Seto lost 2800 life on his next turn, bringing his total down to 1,700. He dropped to his knees again, blood slicking down his chin and into his clothes. His breaths came out in ragged pulls.

Atem knew Marik and Bakura were right, that Seto would never forgive Atem for interrupting, but still Atem struggled to pull free. "Let me go!"

"He's not done yet," Bakura insisted.

"Let me go. Let me go! Bakura, you're just doing this because you hate me!"

"Stop it," Bakura hissed, shaking Atem by the shoulders. "Your screaming will distract him. He can still win this."

Atem looked up. His face was too close to Bakura's. Their breaths battled in the space between them. Atem stared at Bakura's eyes, expecting to see the familiar malice and loathing, but all he saw was a stoic sort of grief. Atem didn't think it was directed at him, however, more for the situation in general.

Bakura's grip tightened on Atem's shoulders, and Atem only half recognized that he needed the support to keep standing – his legs failing him although he wanted nothing but to run to the card table.

* * *

Was he dying? Seto wasn't exactly sure, but Mokuba was counting, counting and begging in between numbers for Seto to sit back up and finish his turn, but Seto was incapable of doing as much as lift his head. His vision smeared everything into a dirty blurr; the blue sky, the spectators shouting out to him, his brother's face, everything drowned in Shadows and wisps of dim color.

Seto opened his mouth to speak. Instead he choked on blood and each breath was iron fire that he earned through sheer power of will instead of reflex. "I need . . ." he managed, his voice a pathetic whisper that infuriated him to the point of speaking a little louder. "To speak with Yugi. _Now_."

Mokuba shouted something. He no longer counted, and Seto knew that meant he'd lost because he couldn't draw his next card in time.

 _Fucking ridiculous._

Seto realized that Kamenwati was not like Marik, Ishizu, or even Rishid. He had not spent his time underground honing his skills with duel monsters. He was a mediocre player that relied on the pain of Shadow magic to weaken his enemy to unconsciousness and death, but Seto would give him neither of those things.

He felt someone squeeze his hand, and Seto frowned.

"Don't worry, Seto. We'll get you back to the mansion so the doctors can—"

"No you stupid fool," Seto snapped, blood leaking from his mouth. "Finish what we've started."

"It doesn't matter," Yugi whispered, his voice unfamiliar with anger. "We're idiots, Seto. This whole time we thought we were stalling so we could find him, but it was the other way around. He's planning something for after the tournament, and he's distracting _us_ until he's ready. We need to prepare for _that_."

"Yugi, _I lost_." Seto felt the words on his tongue like physical pains, but the insult of the truth drove him past the burning in his lungs. "He controls Obelisk now. Get it back. Whatever he plans for after the tournament – the god cards will only strengthen him." He grabbed the collar of Yugi's shirt, drawing their faces close. "Yugi . . . _don't get attacked._ It's not like . . . what we're used to. This . . . fucking hurts. This . . . fucking . . . hurts . . ."

Seto's eyes started to sink without his permission. He felt himself losing control and he despised the feeling . . . at first. Then he realized, for the first time, that perhaps he _could_ succumb. Perhaps he could allow his eyes to slide shut and give a final exhale and let the pain go – because _she_ would be waiting for him. All Seto had to do was give up control, just for an instant, and then he could have the golden fields, and soft flax linen, and Kisara's smooth lips against his forever. And wasn't that what he wanted more than anything?

He felt himself shift into another pair of arms. Not his brother's arms, these were thinner, more delicate arms, but still strong. He recognized Atem's scent right away – Seto's own cologne mellowed and made rich by Atem's body chemistry. Atem screamed, but Seto couldn't catch a thing; instead, Seto laughed.

"Quit your bitching. I'm not dead yet."

He did want the fields, and he did want Kisara, but Seto realized she'd still be waiting for him in sixty years. A life was short, almost a waste of time by the standards of the universe, and Atem smelt good in Seto's cologne, so Seto fought for breath and savored the burning fire, laced with his lover's scent, of each breath he won against death.

"We're going home," Atem insisted, and the word _home_ fell so effortlessly from his mouth. It wasn't _the mansion_ to Atem like it was to the others. It was their home. "You need a blood transfusion."

"And you need to stay here."

"You bastard." Atem's voice was dark and stubborn, just as Seto first remembered it. "You already kept me from helping you because you wanted to play duelist. I'm not staying here when you're _dying._ Do you understand, Seto? You are dying in my arms, and I won't _let_ that happen."

"Quit being so dramatic."

" _Seto!_ "

"I'm aware of my circumstances," Seto said, as if he wasn't bleeding to death. If they were lucky, the bleeding wasn't internal. Seto himself wasn't exactly sure _what_ was injured. "Mokuba, take the car. Bring a medical crew back here."

"On it."

"Seto, that's not _good enough_."

Seto turned towards the sky. Enjoying it, perhaps, for the first time. "I don't think I'd survive the trip. The jostling . . . it's better to bring them to me."

Atem squeezed Seto's hands until his own tanned knuckles went white. "It should have been me."

"Stop." The words still stung and burned in his chest. Pain still consumed him, but he no longer felt as if succumbing was a choice.

Atem helped Seto to his feet. "I'm not leaving your side until the doctor gets here."

"You need to watch Yugi's match." Seto spat, trying to rinse the taste of blood from his mouth. At least he wasn't vomiting crimson and agony anymore, but he still felt drained and wounded inside. "Don't you two idiots have some sort of friendship bond or something? He'll need that in his fight."

"You don't believe in that sort of thing."

Seto couldn't help the smirk on his face. "No, I don't, but Yugi does."

"He doesn't _need_ me anymore. He hasn't since the Ceremonial Duel." Atem smiled despite the worry straining his features. "Don't underestimate him. He's become really strong without me."


	36. Chapter 35

*****mild internal screaming* I'm so busy right now. I'm going to post this tonight so I don't have to worry about it tomorrow. And I'm trying to write a few lemonade/ cotton candy stand prompts, so if you've been waiting on those because you gave a prompt, I'll post of few as soon as January hits.*****

* * *

Yugi's hands shook. He wasn't afraid, but he was angry. Since Case Zero fell ill with a mysterious illness, he'd seen nothing but suffering. People watching their loved ones get sick, people watching their loved ones die from illness or riots or being eaten alive. He thought of Ryo, covered in marks and scars, damaged like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal. He thought about Kek screaming and kicking Kamenwati as he cried at some unknown grief. He thought about all the times he'd seen his friends have to kill people already dead that used to be neighbors or members of the community. He thought about the news stories on T.V. before everything crumbled. And he shook with anger as he remembered it all.

And there Kamenwati stood, holding Obelisk as if he had a right to hold a god card. Yugi frowned. "You haven't won a real game yet. You just _hurt_ people until they can't play anymore."

"It's regrettable that neither of them turned."

"I know you're planning something. I know you let us believe this tournament was our idea, but really it was your scheme all along, wasn't it? You knew we'd use it to draw you out, and meanwhile it gave you the time to do whatever you are planning."

"Of course, and it's already begun, but I'd still like another god card, so let's play our game."

"Screw the game!" Yugi screamed. "Just tell me what you're doing!"

Kamenwati chuckled. "So you can stop me?"

"Yes!"

"It's too late to stop me. Even if I told you now, as I said, it's already begun. Don't worry, win or lose, I'll explain my plans after our game. Unless . . ." He smiled. "You're willing to give me your god cards now?"

Yugi sat down at the card table, trying to ignore the blood stains that belonged to Kaiba. "You're not getting anymore cards. In fact, I won't even _use_ the gods to beat you. This game will be too quick."

Kamenwati raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "We'll see, but we'll need a new referee."

Yugi turned around, thinking perhaps he should ask Rishid or Ishizu, someone level headed and objective who could take Mokuba's place, but before he had time to think, Bakura stormed up to the board and scrawled two sloppy 8,000's without adorning them with names. "Let's get this the fuck over with already."

Yugi won the coin toss. Of course he did, he had the gods' luck. He summoned Vilepawn Archfiend and used it as tribute to special summon Archfiend Commander and then used _that_ to play Eradicator Epidemic Virus – a card he'd won from Jonouchi. It allowed him to destroy Kamenwati's spell cards for three turns in which time Yugi focused on summoning monsters and attacking.

He didn't like playing an aggressive game. It was more fun to hold back a little, wait and see if Anzu, or Jonouchi, or Honda, or Mai would figure out a way around his strategy and beat him. Otherwise, winning all the time made the game less fun.

But this wasn't fun. Yugi wanted it to be over. He wanted to know whatever horror Kamenwati had in wait for them so he could fight it with everything he had left. So he summoned the strongest monsters to attack Kamenwati directly and used counterspells to prevent Kamenwati from inflicting damage or getting anything out on the field. Whatever card Yugi wanted he seemed to pull from his deck as if the cards were as eager as him to end the game.

The game was brief, one sided, and less interesting than Marik's one turn kill. In the end, Bakura stood with a _what-the-fuck_ expression on his face as the scoreboard read 8,000 to 0. Yugi half crawled over the table to reach Kamenwati's deck. He stole the first card from his extra pile, of course it was the one he wanted as his reward for winning – Obelisk.

"You were never worthy of holding a god card," Yugi said as he glanced over to Seto laying on a stretcher. "Now _where are you_?"

"Well played, Yugi." Kamenwati's tone was calm and pleasant as ever. "The stories I've heard about playing against you are all true. It's a shame I couldn't _win_ the gods to my side; nevertheless, once I have the Millennium Items in my possession, they'll eventually be mine."

Bakura grabbed Kamenwati by the collar of his robe. The thief's face twisted ugly in his hatred. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Even caught in Bakura's hold, Kamenwati smiled. The act stretched the scars marking his face. "I planned on bringing them back months ago. Even with all the killing caused by my dead children, one town managed to get big enough for the spell – just over ninety-nine souls for me to use. Too bad you moved in and stopped me. Your _ka_ was too strong for even my army, so I couldn't risk it." A cordial laugh slipped past his lips. "But then, the Pharaoh fixed that problem for me, didn't he? Sending you on that's fool's errand to find me and exhausting you."

"You – you can't!" Yugi screamed when he realized what Kamenwati meant to do. "You can't do that!"

"Oh gods . . ." Bakura's face went blank as if his face suddenly became numb. "Miyu." He shoved Kamenwati to the ground and turned to run.

He only managed three steps before crashing to his knees, clutching his chest. Marik was beside him in an instant. "Bakura?"

"Can't . . . summon Diabound . . . not enough _ba_."

"Come on." Marik slung Bakura's arm over his shoulder to help the former thief walk. "We'll get there."

Yugi shoved his cards into his pocket – only because he held the gods and needed to protect them – but before he could run to the others and suggest they go with Marik and Bakura, Yugi saw Atem walking with his sword drawn. He raised the blade and swung down, chopping off Kamenwati's head and revealing it for the rotting corpse it really was. He cleaned the scimitar, sheathed it, and looked at Yugi.

"Atem?" Yugi asked. He asked because of the frightening look in Atem's eyes.

Atem rested his hands on Yugi's shoulders. Their weight felt soft and gentle, not even hurting Yugi's bandaged shoulder. "Yugi, please stay here and look after Seto for me."

"Atem, I can help. Remember? We do this together!"

"Yes. I know. Yugi, it's a slow spell. He'll have every undead still under his control guarding Market Town to keep us from reaching him in time."

"All the more reason not to let _the three of you_ go alone!" Yugi clamped his hands around Atem's forearms. "I know you feel guilty, from before, for Kul Elna, but _dying_ isn't repentance."

Atem smiled, but it didn't reassure Yugi. Panic seized his chest as he looked up at his other half.

"Yugi, I need your help. I can't be a sword and a shield both at once. I can't protect our friends and restore balance at the same time. Please . . . get Natsumi and Seto stable. Get Anzu and Shizuka off the streets. Once the people we care about are safe – gather anyone that wants to help and meet me at Market Town."

Yugi exhaled sharp, piercing relief when Atem said to meet him at Market Town instead of wait at the mansion. He nodded, releasing Atem's arms. "Okay . . . go."

* * *

Marik supported Bakura for half a block until he could run on his own, but both knew running wasn't good enough, so Marik scanned the streets for a better option. Most of the cars poxing the streets were wrecked in some way or another or had rotting tires and rust lining their hoods.

"Wait!" A voice called to them.

Marik glanced over his shoulder and noticed the Pharaoh chasing after them, his face rosy from sprinting. Bakura growled when he saw Atem. The thief charged, slamming Atem down into the street. "You've been nothing but incompetent since you've been back! Stay out of this!"

"I can't!" Atem screamed, jumping back to his feet and stepping straight up to Bakura's chest. He tried to match his height to Bakura's, which would have been comical in any other circumstance. "Hate me! Punch me! I don't fucking care, Bakura! But right now we have to get to Market Town and save everyone!"

Bakura balled his hands into fists, grinding his teeth to hold back his rage. He made an angry, throaty sound like a roar, but turned around and started walking down the street without further violence. Marik exhaled, and then marched to keep up with Bakura.

"We need transportation," Marik said as they walked.

They found it at the end of the block. Two motorcycles gleaming scarlet beneath the summer sun as if the gods had placed them their for Atem's convenience. Marik inspected the bikes. No rust or dirt, clean fuel lines and new tires. Those bikes were someone's babies. Marik looked around, but didn't see anyone.

"We don't have the keys," Atem said.

Marik rolled his eyes. He was already leaning over to hotwire the first bike. He hated to do it. Even under the dire circumstances it pained him to potentially fry the motorbikes' electronic systems, but he didn't complain, even in jest to rile Bakura. Not now. Not for this. Instead, Marik slung his leg over the first bike, waiting for Bakura to sit behind him.

He glanced at Atem. "Can you ride?"

"I've ridden a horse."

Bakura glared at him. "Well if you crash or fall behind we're going on without you, so you better manage."

Atem nodded, as if he expected nothing less. Marik shook his head and took off down the road. He half expected to see someone chasing after them screaming, but whoever owned the bikes was either asleep or too far away to hear them start.

 _Or dead_.

Marik couldn't help the thought. It was possible. Kamenwati may have been trying to expand his army. While the rest of them played stupid card games, people in Domino could have been dying, and that thought soured Marik's stomach, but the only thing to do was speed towards Market Town and try to prevent further deaths. Marik wasn't religious, but he felt like he was praying as he drove down the street with Bakura's arms locked around his waist.

The bikes allowed them to slip past potholes and old accidents without having to detour. For a moment, Marik dared hope the journey would be easy, but when they neared Market Town, an undead blockade forced them to stop and get off of their motorcycles.

"Gods," Atem whispered when he saw their numbers.

"It doesn't matter." Bakura grabbed his daggers, and Marik noticed his hands trembled, but he did not think it was from fear – at least not the fear of battle.

Marik held his khopesh swords. The dead walked towards him and he already wished they had Diabound.

"Hey, you assholes better not be planning on hogging all this fun to yourselves. I want to kill them too."

Marik turned and saw Kek and Ryo standing behind them. By Kek's face, one would have never guessed that not long ago he had ran out of the tournament in hysterics. He looked cocksure and eager for battle, licking his lips in excitement for the fight ahead.

"Where are your clothes?" Atem asked, distracted from the approaching cadavers by the sight of Kek wearing nothing but black boots and boxer briefs.

"Fuck you, I'm not ruining another dress to save your ass."

Atem nodded. "Can you kill them all?"

Kek looked at the hoard. "That many? No. In the stadium we had obstacles to control the flow, but this is open battle." Kek unsheathed his kukris from the belt holsters hugging his boxer-clad hips. "But I can help clear a path for you."

* * *

Atem wiped sweat from his eyes. Every muscle screamed fiery hurt from battle and small wounds. Even with Ryo fighting like a hero from an old wet nurse's fable and Kek fighting like the wrath of Ra, the sky burned orange before they reached the nearest building with a ladder to reach Market Town. Thick smoke blackened the sky. From the looks of it, the entire town burned.

An almost inhuman keen erupted from Bakura's throat, a sound that belonged to a demon dying from old wounds. He struggled to get through the last of the corpses in their way, ignoring the hands clawing at his arms as he fought.

Bakura's daggers proved ineffective for killing the undead, but he disabled the corpses by slicing tendons. As soon as they reached the rope ladder leading up to Market Town, he grabbed Marik by the hips and lifted him up to the ropes. Atem followed Bakura up, but he noticed Ryo and Kek staying in the street and fighting off as many dead as they could.

"Come on!" Atem shouted.

"Go!" Ryo called up to them. "We'll stay here and thin them out."

"There's too many! Come with us. After this is over I can stop the undead!"

"No. I want to die in battle!" Kek moved so fast that it turned Atem's stomach to watch.

He glanced back to Ryo, realizing he needed to hurry as Marik and Bakura kept climbing. Ryo spared a second out of the chaos to lock eyes with Atem. He looked sad, and defiant. He smiled. "It's okay. Go!"

Atem left them behind, not having much choice. He climbed to the top, choking on smoke as soon as he reached the roof.

"Miyu!" Bakura screamed as he tore across the roof and towards the town proper.

Undead littered the town, but their numbers were thin compared to the hoard on the ground. They didn't climb on their own, but Atem was sure Kamenwati had found a way to lead them to the roofs previously thought safe.

Atem hated Market Town when he first saw it. Poor, meager, thrown together, it wasn't the great palaces of his forefathers or a proper city like Domino once was, but seeing it burn . . . Atem ran faster, attacking corpses as he went.

When they reached the center of the town, they saw people stacked on top of each other like a cord of wood. Kamenwati had their hands and feet bound, and had cloth gags in their mouths; some bled from wounds, but all of them lived.

The old tomb-keeper cradled the Tome in both arms while he screamed at one of his risen dead. "I need ninety-nine! You've brought me only seventy-nine in a town with more than one-hundred people. Damn the light! Attack! Kill her! And bring me twenty more tributes!"

Bakura roared, his voice a peel of grief and rage challenging the night and flames around them. He charged forward, daggers in hand.

Kamenwati turned in time to see the steel of Bakura's right dagger flash orange in the burning light before the edge cut into his face. Bakura caught the corner of the tomb-keeper's mouth, doubling the man's disturbing smile. On the backslash, Bakura slit the other side of Kamenwati's mouth. The old man doubled forward, dropping the Spellbook and clinging to blood and skin as he shrieked.

"Cast your spell now!" Bakura howled. "Say the incantation now!"

Kamenwati looked up, his eyes dark and angry, his face a mutilated mask. The dead gathered around them, but Atem wasn't going to give Kamenwati a chance to command them any longer. He ran, holding his sword in both hands. He slipped past Bakura and angled the blade upward while aiming low so that the scimitar - that once belonged to Kamenwati - slipped between the tomb-keeper's ribs and below the heart. Atem cut until he hit bone; he twisted his sword, trying the break the ribcage, but a scimitar was a piercing weapon and he couldn't get through the ribs.

Kamenwati grabbed the handle of the blade, as if to stop the stabwound Atem already made. He wasn't dying, the blood ran from his body, his skin paled, but his eyes remained aware.

"Atem!"

He glanced over his shoulder; Marik held out a khopesh. Atem nodded, pulling his sword away and dropping it to the roof as he took Marik's blade.

Bakura stood with his daggers still in hand. He glared at both Kamenwati and Atem with equal measures of hatred, but didn't stop Atem from taking Marik's weapon and using the blunt tip like an ax to crack Kamenwati's ribcage. The old man dropped to his knees. Atem hit him once more, and Kamentwati landed on his back. He'd stopped screaming, instead gasping for air he couldn't pull into his lungs.

The dead around them didn't attack; instead, they stood in place as if frozen. Marik stood guard beside Atem, waiting for an attack that didn't seem to be coming.

Atem aimed his strikes with care, trying to crack and shatter ribs without collapsing the ribcage altogether and damaging the heart in the process. He dropped the khopesh and held out his right hand. "Bakura."

The thief flitted confused eyes in Atem's direction. After a second, he passed his off-hand dagger to Atem. Dropping to his knees, Atem used the dagger to cut through flesh, peeling away skin and meat, and prying open ribs to expose Kamenwati's _ib_ as if they participated in a macabre _Weighing of the Heart_ ceremony.

A small, pained noise escaped Kamenwati's throat, and Atem's stomach turned when he realized the tomb-keeper was still alive and conscious. "You killed your heart," Atem said, as if it justified the old tomb-keeper's agony. "You wanted to make sure you couldn't die - and now you can't."

Bakura crouched beside Atem, using his primary dagger to help Atem finish ripping open Kamenwati's torso until Atem saw the man's heart, gray and putrid, though still pumping as if alive.

Bile rushed up Atem's throat, but he swallowed it and continued without complaint, slicing the dead _ib_ free from it's carnal prison and holding it in both hands.

The dead, beating thing in his hands made Atem's own heart beat faster. He wrinkled his nose at the rotting stench that rose from the organ, but stood to his feet, holding the heart out in front of him. "Dead . . . rest . . ."

Atem held his breath, not sure if his command was enough. When he saw the corpses dropping to the ground, however, he exhaled. The dead, beating _ib_ slipped from his hands. Atem took Bakura's dagger and stabbed it through the rotting muscle until Kamenwati's pained gasps stilled.

"Is it over?" Marik whispered.

"I think so," Atem said.

"Not until I find Miyu." Bakura pushed himself back to his feet.

Atem scanned the captive villagers, and he noticed all of them were adults. "Bakura, I don't see any children."

A suspicious look settled over Bakura's face. "There were last time."

He sprinted across the roof, dodging fallen bodies and debri. "Miyu!" he bawled into the flames of the dying town. "Miyu!"

Atem and Marik followed him. In the distance, white light lit up the sky. A strangled noise slipped from Bakura's mouth at the sight of it - joy instead of anger or grief. They ran faster. Atem gasped when he saw the leviathan, long, and white, and fierce. The serpent-like dragon floated above Bakura's garden. Her mouth held her tail tip, creating a protective circle with her body.

They slid beneath the barrier. Atem noticed about two dozen children huddled together. The older ones tried to comfort the younger, but they all looked rattled and dirty. In the center, Miyu sat cross legged in meditation. Her face showed neither emotion nor thought, only a determined calm.

Bakura slid on his knees, scooping the child into an embrace as soon as he could reach her.

Her eyes jerked open. "Bakura?"

When she realized it was Bakura, fat tears rolled down her cheeks. The _ka_ disappeared as she cried into Bakura's chest. "They attacked. I thought it was just an outbreak so I started gathering up the other kids, but they were _taking_ people. They took the old lady who lives next to me, a-and I couldn't attack them and protect the kids at the same time, so I had to watch as they dragged her away . . ." her sobs changed to wailing and her words stopped.

"It's okay. You're okay. You did good." Bakura rocked her, trying to calm her tears. "They're dead, the zombies. We stopped it. It's over now. You're okay."

"But why were they _taking_ people? Zombies don't take prisoners. Was it that guy we took the book from?"

"Yes, but you _stopped_ him. He couldn't cast his spell without ninety-nine victims." Bakura rested his forehead on the crown of Miyu's head. "You did what I never could - damn, Miyu, you saved our village. Damn, strong little brat."

Miyu swiped the back of her arm across her eyes, the tears beginning to dry on her cheeks. "Stupid, I did it only because you taught me how."

Once Miyu calmed down, Marik settled beside them, and Bakura pulled him into a group hug. Atem started backing away, deciding it was better to give them time alone while he untied the other villagers so everyone escaped before the fires sunk down into the buildings that supported Market Town.

As he neared the captured townspeople, he saw Yugi running towards him. Yugi slung his arms around Atem's waist in a fierce hug. "You did it! You did it! I knew you would!"

* * *

Not simply Yugi, Atem noticed all his friends. Honda, Mai, Jonouchi, Anzu, Ishizu, Rishid, Mokuba, and a half-dead Seto - half-dead being a marked improvement from the last time Atem saw him. They swarmed him in a hug, everyone but Seto. Atem laughed in their arms, trying to forget the blood and shattered ribs, the desperate, pained wheezes of Kamenwati and the stench of his dead soul.

"We came to help, but the dead all dropped around us before we could even get to Market Town." Anzu smiled.

"He has most the town tied up. Help me release them and bandage their wounds."

They freed the townspeople and evacuated them and the children away from the flames and to the city streets below - safe now that the dead lay in the gutters and on the lawns. Atem retrieved the Tome before they left, gripping to it as if he could protect the other people around him from the horrors written within the leather binding.

After their wounds were treated with whatever medical supplies they could scrape together, the townspeople left in small and clusters to find new shelter and try and process everything that had happened. Atem waited until the last of them disappeared before he stared down at the Tome in his hands.

"What are you going to do with it?" Marik asked. He and Bakura leaned against the brick wall away from the rest of the group. Miyu slept in Bakura's arms, exhausted from using too much of her young _ba_ to protect the other children from the undead with her _ka_.

"Now it's my turn to have it."

Atem turned the other direction when he heard Kek's voice. He and Ryo limped towards Atem with their arms slung over each other's shoulder. Their bites and other wounds were cleaned and bound, and Kek had on the red dress he wore to the tournament, but they looked about as well off as Seto in their bandages.

Atem clutched the book to his chest. "I would never give this to you. Maybe you've changed, but this book . . . you'd be right back to your old self again if you touched this book. The Shadow Magic is _that_ strong within it."

Kek rolled his eyes. "I _was_ darkness, I _was_ pain. I _was_ sorrow. Every scrap of light in my soul _I earned_ \- I didn't start out with it. There's nothing in that book that can tempt me."

"Still . . ." Atem relaxed his arms. "This book belonged to my family. It's my burden." He shook his head. "Why would you even _want_ it?"

Ryo scowled. It reminded Atem of when he wore the Ring. He looked possessed with anger, not his friendly self. "He doesn't _want_ it. It's the _last thing_ he wants."

Kek nodded. "The dead are gone. There's no more need for a scythe and Isis wants me to bring to Tome back to her."

"Pharaoh, can't you do something?" Ishizu pressed her hands over her chest as if her heart ached. "Hasn't my family suffered enough?"

Atem stared at Ishizu, her copper complexion lined with grief, her bright eyes pleading.

She struggled with her words, hands still pressed to her heart. "It's not . . . right, for him to go. It's not right."

Kek grit his teeth and balled his hands into fists. "Stay out of this. I didn't ask for your help. It was my choice and I made my deal with Isis, and if you don't give me that damn book so I can get this over with, then I will break your fucking fingers and _take_ it."

Atem walked up to the former Shadow, as if to hand over the book, and used the heavy Tome to hit Kek in the side of the head. Kek wasn't expecting the blow and dropped to the ground unconscious before anyone registered what happened.

"Kek!" Ryo sank to his knees to check Kek's hair for blood, but his fingers came back dry. Nonetheless, Ryo grabbed his naginata and held the blade in front of Atem. "Why?"

Atem didn't blink. "So he can stay."

Ryo did blink, hard and fast. The anger in his expression twisted into grief-struck confusion as he lowered his weapon. "I-I don't, understand."

Jonouchi spoke up as well. "Yeah, what are you saying, Atem?"

Atem looked at his friends, looked at Seto, and then turned his eyes back to Ryo. "This book belonged to the royal family. It should be my responsibility. Ishizu is right. Why should the Ishtars continue to sacrifice themselves for me?"

He heard gasps from several of his friends, and Ishizu smudged a few tears away from her eyes. Ryo knelt beside Kek's crumpled form on the sidewalk. He brushed stray hairs away from Kek's forehead. "Bakura - he's not an Ishtar anymore, he's . . ." He looked up at Atem. "What are you going to do?"

"Take it back myself."

"You can do that?"

"Yes. I know the way back."

"Atem," Anzu whispered.

He gave her a soft smile. "It's okay. You'll all be safe now. I've done what I came to do. It's alright if I go." His eyes turned to Yugi.

Yugi nodded. "It'd be great . . . if you could stay. If everyone could stay. I really liked the idea of you being around to watch our children grow up." Yugi smiled, a wistful smile that spread across his face for a moment and then faded. "But it would be selfish of us to ask you to stay instead of doing what you think is right." Yugi grabbed Atem in a bear hug. "So I want you to know that you'll be missed, but we'll be okay without you." He shrugged, looked up from the hug. "At least we got to save the world together one last time, right?"

Atem nodded, giving Yugi's hair a quick comb with his fingers.

Anzu threw her arms around him with Yugi, so did Honda, Mokuba, Jonouchi, and even Mai. Atem couldn't help smiling, grateful that he had so many people that cared for him on either side of the Veil.

"Don't be sad," he said. "We'll meet again."

He knelt beside Ryo. When Ryo looked up at him, a single, round tear hovered beneath his eye on the ledge of his cheek. "I can't thank you . . . there's no way to show gratitude for something like this."

Atem shook his head, standing up and turning to Ishizu and Rishid. Ishizu embraced him next, weeping quietly into his shoulder.

"It's okay," he whispered into her hair, squeezing her and letting go.

Next he went to Bakura, who still leaned against the wall while looking intentionally in the opposite direction. Atem stared at his shoes. "Bakura, I know this isn't enough, but-"

"Shut. Up." Bakura's face was molten fury, twisted in a pained expression shown in profile because he still turned to the side. "I don't want to _hear it_."

"it still needs saying. I can't undo any of your pain, but I _will_ make sure it never happens again. I will _make sure_ Thoth hides this Tome somewhere it'll never be seen again." Atem paused, glancing up. "And I am sorry, more than I can express, I am sorry."

"I told you to shut up."

A smirk twisted the corner of Atem's mouth. "What's the matter? Afraid you might forgive me if I keep saying it?"

"Tch, you're lucky my daggers are out of reach."

Atem's eyes flicked over to Marik. He stood and frowned, his eyes shifting between Kek and Atem as if he was trying to decide how to feel, but none of the emotions he knew of worked. Atem smirked at them, and left them standing side by side with the solid brick wall at their backs and the open street in front of them.

Last he went to Seto, who stood furthest from anyone else in the group and said nothing, simply watched with glacial blue eyes as Atem made his final rounds. Atem walked until the tips of their shoes touched. He leaned forward until his forehead rested gently against Seto's shoulder. "If I had a regret-"

"-Why didn't you let me go if you were going to do this? I could have met you there. _She and I both_ could have met you there."

Atem glanced up at Seto. "Don't you have things to do here?"

"I was ready to go. It was my _time_."

Atem shook his head no, knowing better than to argue, but even then Atem didn't like the thought of Seto leaving life. Seto had his brother and the prototype generators that would help heal some of the damage caused by the undead. It seemed like the world would be better with Seto Kaiba in it.

"I'm selfish," Atem whispered.

"Yes. You are."

"Seto, I'm sor-"

He never had a chance to finish because at that moment Seto embraced Atem, leaned Atem back in his arms, and crushed their mouths together.

The world spun. Atem's body lost all rigidity as he sank into Seto's arms. His face burned, so hot he felt as if his skin would melt. He heard a playful whistle - pretty sure it was Jonouchi - and he heard someone snickering and running their mouth - surprisingly, it sounded like Bakura. Atem even heard Marik's voice giving a facetious retort. He couldn't pay them any mind, however, not in Seto's arms as he was.

When the kiss ended and Atem felt himself placed back on his feet, all he could do was pant and stare.

Seto grinned. The expression would have looked out of character if Atem wasn't hyper-aware of the blush on his own face.

He opened his mouth to speak, realized that nothing he said would change the situation, turned, and ran. Atem knew to the others it looked like he disappeared, but from his perspective, it was Domino City that disappeared. Atem crashed onto the floor of a great, jade barge - the vessel that would ferry his spirit, along with many others, through the Duat and to the Tribunal where their souls would be judged.

Except his. He would return to Aaru as a hero and avatar of Osiris. Once in paradise, he knew he'd feel the same love and peace he did before, but at the moment, in the Duat, the brief taste of life he'd had still clung to his tongue and his heart broke - to leave them all again. Once he endured well enough, but to leave them again ... it hurt, hurt his soul straight through to his core.

Atem's legs gave way. He dropped to the wooden floor of the vessel, clutching the Tome to his chest, and he wept.

* * *

 *****So supersteffy has your back guys. As soon as she read this she started giving me ideas to try and soften the ending (she wasn't going to let me leave the story like this). But, c'mon, you know this is a SitaBethel fic. Not even Atem gets an ending this sad. Broken nose, yes, but not an ending this sad. I have a 4,000 word epilogue to post after this.*****


	37. Epilogue

*****Okay, for anyone sad at the ending of the last chapter, this should fix it up a bit. Aaaahhhhhhhh~ I've been so busy lately I'm going crazy, but I've started working on Lemonade and Cotton Candy prompts again, so there will be updates for that, and I'll start posting Safe (deathshipping story, 8 chapters) now that this is finished. Hope you guys have a great New Years XD*****

* * *

Atem could have stayed at the palace, glorified and honored as a king, a hero, a god, but his soul yearned to wander, to meet the people of Aaru and know their names. He went to Kisara first. She spent her days in an oasis in the desert. Once, before his brief, second taste of life, he'd asked her why she stayed alone in the desert, and she had smiled at him and explained that she was resting until Seto returned.

He found her there, wading in a shallow pool with bare feet, her hair dripping down her shoulders and back. When Atem saw her, his heart ached. It should not have been possible, to feel such longing in Paradise, but she reminded him of what he'd forfeited, so much so that when she noticed him, Atem held her cheek and kissed her lips.

She smiled fixing a stray, magenta hair tickling Atem's forehead. "Don't worry. He's strong, and he'll be okay without us. It's only for a little while."

"I know."

Atem spent a few days with her at the oasis, telling her about everything that had happened, but after he finished his story, it was time to move on. He visited the cities next, prayed at temples with priests, watched artisans practice their crafts, spoke with those he saw on the streets. To Atem it felt like years, wandering, meeting people, listening to their stories. Eventually he migrated to the towns and outlying villages. He helped farmers work the fields, helped weave baskets, and fish in the rivers. He did everything they did, it felt like a century, but still, Seto hadn't returned to him, nor his friends, so still, Atem worked. They started calling him The Pharaoh With Dirt Beneath His Nails. He did not mind the title.

Then he found it. A small village in the desert. Atem swallowed when his eyes caught her people dancing. There was music, and wine, and garlands of blue lotus and coriander blossoms woven into their hair and around their wrists and ankles. It looked like a festival, but Atem couldn't guess for what.

His feet froze as he watched them celebrate. He stayed hidden at the edge of one of the huts. They looked so happy, dancing and singing, and Atem felt as if his presence would soil them somehow, transform their joy to ash somehow. He turned to leave.

Atem jumped when he noticed a woman standing behind him. She leaned against the wall, skin dark like oiled teak, hair white as sun-bleached bone, and a smirk that told Atem who she was before she ever said a word.

"Are you spying on us?

"N-no." Atem shook his head. "Visiting. I wanted to . . ." Atem hung his head, staring at his sandaled feet coated with a thick layer of travel dust. "To make things right, somehow, but

I can't, it was too long ago, so I suppose I wanted to apologize." He looked up at her silvery eyes. "I didn't mean to interrupt your festival. I'll go."

She shoved a jar into his chest. The smell of strong wine invaded his nostrils.

"It's not poisoned."

Atem took a huge drink from the clay jar, trying his best not to seem like a snob, but it was hard to chug a jar of wine after experiencing Seto's wine cellar.

The woman started laughing. A shenti covered her broad hips, but the laughter made her dark, uncovered breasts shake. Atem realized she had the kind of figure meant for childbirth and his chest felt tight at the thought of all the little brothers and sisters Bakura never had a chance to know.

She gave Atem a strong pat on the shoulder. "Not bad for a scrawny, half starved Pharaoh." She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I should speak with your mother. She obviously hasn't been feeding you enough."

Atem felt oddly bashful in the presence of such a boisterous woman. "I'm not a child."

"So what? You're never too old for a proper meal. Come." She grabbed Atem by the hand and dragged him into the village proper.

"Don't you hate me?" he asked. Atem wasn't sure what he'd expected from Kul Elna, but it wasn't wine and the offer of a meal.

She lifted up Atem's hand, staring at his fingers. "Huh, it's true. You really are the Pharaoh With Dirt Beneath His Nails."

He stared at his own hands as if they could offer an explanation.

"A king has never visited us. Not once, although we built their tombs." She pulled at him again. "Come on, Pharaoh. You need to eat if you're going to be as strong as my Little Dough Ball."

"Your Little - do you mean Bakura?"

She snorted. "That's not what his father named him, but yes, Bakura."

Atem laughed, too loudly thanks to the wine. "I'm Atem."

"Kemsē. Welcome to Kul Elna."

He was handed bowls of food, and bread, and beer, and wine. Girls tied blue lotus flowers into his hair, and gave him wrist and ankle garlands to match their own. Kemsē demanded the first dance, and Atem found himself in love with the village and all its people. He couldn't bring himself to leave them. Their love of games matched his own, and Atem never tired of the challenges. He was going to stay. He was going to stay until Seto returned and they went to find Kisara, or until Bakura returned and threw Atem out into the desert.

And Atem did stay, for a long time, but then a day came when a girl arrived at the village. They knew her and greeted her like family. She reminded Atem of Kisara, at first, but when he saw her hazelnut eyes, he realized she looked like Ryo.

She hugged Kemsē and kissed her cheek in greeting, and then she did the same with Atem. They'd been sitting outside of Kemsē's house, drinking beer as Kemsē told stories that, had Bakura been there, would have gotten Atem murdered for hearing.

"You look like Ryo," Atem said.

"I'm his sister, Amane." She sat down across from Atem. "And I owe you an apology."

Atem shook his head no. "You haven't offended me in any way."

"Nor did I trust you." She shrugged. "That's why I helped Bakura go back, because I didn't trust the gods, and I didn't trust you."

Atem nodded. He smiled at her. "But maybe the gods knew all along - how things would turn out, maybe they needed you to help him."

"Still, you did a great kindness for my brother, and I'd like to repay you." She smiled in return, pressing a pair of clay dice into Atem's hand. "They say Thoth will do anything for a dice game."

* * *

Ishizu gasped, her eyes wide and a little scared. Kek's exuberant laughter echoed off the walls.

"You're horrible." She dropped the garment - if it could be called a garment, it wasn't much more than strips of white lace attached by ribbon - back into the gift bag.

"It's your wedding night. Wear something nice."

Ishizu bristled. "I have something nice. Anzu threw a wedding shower for me and they bought me a beautiful nightgown."

"I know. Mai told me, and then she helped me pick that one out for you instead."

"What's wrong with the other one?"

"Nothing." Kek shrugged. "And you'll have plenty of nights to wear that one, but tonight . . ." he pointed back to the little gift bag.

Ishizu cheeks were mauve. "I don't know . . ,"

Kek shrugged. "Your call."

"I'll think about it."

Kek only answered with a dark chuckle. Once such a laugh would have frightened Ishizu, but too much had happened since their tomb days, and both of them had changed too much for a mere laugh to affect her. She threw her arms around Kek. "Thank you."

He bristled but tolerated the embrace. "It was Mai's idea."

"You'll be there tonight, right?"

"Ryo says I have to go."

"That's right."

"I still don't see why you want me there."

"Because." She scuffled his deranged hair, laughing as he jerked away. "You're family."

He stared at his shoes. "But-"

"That world was destroyed," she interrupted him. "This is a new one."

Head still bowed, Kek lifted his lilac eyes up to study her. "I suppose."

"You always wanted that world destroyed anyway."

Kek couldn't help another small laugh. "You have a point there . . ." he looked out the window, as if there was indeed a new world hiding just beyond the pane of glass.

* * *

Yugi and Jonouchi each held a child in their arms. Little Atem slept in Yugi's arms, but Izumi started crying.

"Hey, hey, hey, no, no, no," Jonouchi cooed, trying to calm the child before he went into a full wail. He bounced the baby on his knee, making ridiculous faces. "Da-da-da-da-da-da-da!"

The child beamed, laughing and grabbing Jonouchi's bleached hair.

Jonouchi sighed. "I love him, but I can't wait until Shizuka is out of the shower and changed so I can take five. Who knew babies were so heavy?"

Yugi laughed. "Whatever, you're great with the kids."

"It's still exhausting, even being an uncle is exhausting. It amazes me how well Shizuka and Anzu handle it."

Yugi nodded. He hoped Atem stayed asleep until Anzu came back, but at the same time, he relished the he had with his son. Yugi felt love swelling in his chest as his son slept nestled in his arms. It filled him with wonder, constant wonder, how much you could love a person.

* * *

Miyu tugged at her dress. She shifted to her right foot, then her left foot, and then tugged at her dress again. Kek nudged her with his elbow to get her to stop fidgeting. She glared at him. He glared back, and Miyu realized she wasn't going to win so she exhaled out of her nose and tried to stay still. She and Kek stood on one side as bridesmaids while Bakura and Marik acted as groomsmen across from them. Rishid and Ishizu stood in the middle. Ishizu's dress wasn't so bad, it was simple and white, but Miyu _hated_ the frilly, lilac nightmares she and Kek were wearing.

Some guy standing behind a podium was going on and on. Miyu wanted to roll her eyes, but didn't want another nudge from Kek's elbow, so she endured the ceremony as best she good, and wrinkled her nose when Rishid kissed the bride, since it was like watching her aunt and uncle kiss.

At least the reception was good. It was odd watching so many people laughing and joking in once place. Miyu kept listening for low groans, kept searching for the tale-tell stumbling that would turn the laughter into screams, but she knew it wouldn't happen, _mentally_ she knew that, but it was still hard to override years of instinct.

"Hard, isn't it?" Ryou asked beside her.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw your eyes. You were looking at all the exits. If a fire broke out right now, you'd be a mile away before someone even made it to a bucket of water, but it's not a fire you're worried about, is it?"

"I'm not dumb. I know they're dead."

"Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself, but I still have three knives on me right now."

"I have two," Miyu confessed.

"I'm sure everyone here has either a knife or a gun on them." Ryou smiled. "I got to where people made me nervous, but really, this is probably the safest I've ever been in my life."

Miyu snorted. "Of course we're safe."

"Of course we are," Ryo echoed. "But that takes some getting used to, right?"

Just then Bakura walked up behind them and gave them both a playful smack on the back of their heads. "What are you idiots doing? They're about to cut the cake, hurry up or I'm eating all of it."

Miyu grinned as she watch Bakura walk away. She exhaled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders and jaw. At least, for the first time in her life, if something wrong _did_ happen, Miyu knew she had people that would get her back. After that Miyu started to have more fun. Yugi and his friends weren't so bad, once she got used to them, and Miyu even tolerated a few hugs.

* * *

Bakura chuckled. "See? You survived, dress and all."

"You can't just _do_ that to children. Dress them up like idiots. That's some kind of abuse."

"You had a choice - dress like Kek or suits like the rest of us - so don't bitch to me about your clothes."

"Whatever, both those options were uncomfortable. When _I_ get married I'm wearing jeans."

Bakura pulled the blanket up to her chin, tucking her in although they didn't _mention_ that he'd gotten in the habit of doing it ever since the fire. He'd built her her own little "guest house" in the yard of the his and Marik's new home. It wasn't more than a room and bathroom, she still ate meals with them, but he let her sleep in her own space so she didn't feel suffocated (among other reasons). Still, the odd habit of tucking her in . . .

"Knock yourself out, kid. You can wear a clown suit for all I care."

"And I'm not following any stupid traditions like having you give the bride away. I'm not a door prize! No one gets to give me away."

Bakura stepped back a pace, crossing his arms over his chest. "Like I'd want to anyway!"

Miyu looked at Bakura. A sombre look crossed her face as she sat up, undoing all the effort Bakura put into tucking her in. "Bakura?"

Bakura shrugged. "Look, I don't care if you don't want to go to sleep. Stay up all night if you want, but you're still getting up in the morning for training."

"No, it's not that." She paused for a moment, picking at her fingernails. "It's . . . things are nice now, right?"

He shrugged. "Marik bitches less now that we have a generator for electric lighting. That's rather nice."

Miyu smiled. "Yeah . . . but honestly? This is the nicest my life's ever been."

Bakura stared at the ground for a moment. Then he reached out, ruffled Miyu's hair, and started to leave. "Me too, kid."

"Hey Bakura?"

He stopped, turning a little and glancing over his shoulder.

Miyu swung her feet over the edge of the bed. They dangled because she wasn't tall enough to reach the floor yet. She still toyed with her fingers instead of looking up. "I don't like the word dad. It makes me feel . . . kinda sick, when I think about it - about saying it to _anyone_. So I want you to know . . . if I never say it to you-" she jumped off the mattress, racing to Bakura and throwing her arms around his waist as she buried her face against his side. "It's because Bakura's a better word. Bakura will always be better than dad."

A smile struggled on Bakura's face. His knees seemed to give way and he knelt down so he was eye-level with Miyu, hugging her as hard as she hugged him.

She pulled herself away and leapt back into her bed. "And this conversation never happened!"

"What conversation?" Bakura stood up and left her room with a grin on his face. Outside, he noticed Marik out of the corner of his eye leaning against the brick wall to Miyu's room. The sky was dark, but Marik defied the night and the dark - gold hair, copper skin, and lilac eyes - every single trait of Marik's was a bright victory over darkness.

"Spying?" Bakura asked.

"You were taking a long time. I figured if I snuck over I might see something amusing."

Bakura snorted and marched towards the house. Marik followed him.

He laughed, leaning close so he could whisper against Bakura's ear. "It's a good look on you."

"What is?"

"Domestic."

Bakura turned so they faced each other, lips close. "Go fuck yourself, Marik."

Marik grinned. "How about I fuck you instead?"

Bakura tried to hold his angry scowl, but his smile betrayed him.

* * *

They fought in the sunlight. Sweat dripped from Ryou's chin. Each drop glittered like diamonds, and he was the most beautiful creature that Kek had ever seen - more beautiful that the goddess who'd given him a soul.

Ryou said he didn't want things to go back to the way they were before. He never wanted to feel small again, never wanted to _need_ protection, so they fought almost every day to keep their skills sharp.

Kek's body was still fast, but not as fast as when he killed the undead. He felt utterly human now, no longer a scythe.

He hated the Pharaoh a little, for saving him.

 _How dare you save me now. How dare you save me now. How dare you save me now and not Marik back then when we were a child._

But what Kek really hated was how he no longer truly hated the Pharaoh, no not truly. He was too grateful to truly hate him. He supposed that was the price he had to pay. Everyone had accepted Kek and, in his turn, Kek had to accept his enemies as well.

But, begrudging as he was, he wasn't going to complain about his new deal. After all, he got to live, and he got to stay in the world with Ryo for a little while longer, and that was good. That was a better ending than Kek (or anyone else) had ever thought to give him.

* * *

Seto didn't realize he'd stayed up all night working on his laptop until the morning sun struck his eyes. He was outside, an extension cord keeping his laptop alive. Every room in the mansion haunted him. He kept expecting Atem to be there, in Seto's favorite chair in the study, legs swung over the arm with complete disregard to the well-being of the antique upholstery, or perhaps stretched out on their bed with his left foot - always the left foot - sticking out from under the covers, or even in the game room, flashing a deck of cards at Seto and challenging him to another game.

He'd expected dreams, Atem, Kisara, at least one of them, preferably both of them, but no dreams came. He was alone. He was alone, and so he couldn't sleep.

He knew he couldn't avoid it forever, sleeping, living . . . even in his grief he was too practical to pretend that he could simply fade away in order to join his lovers. No, he was Seto Kaiba, and he had work to do.

And if his eyes watered, it was only because the dawn slanted straight into his line of vision. Seto raise his palm up to his face to rub at his eyes, blinking past the light blinding him. He thought he saw a shadow in the sunlight and wondered if perhaps he shouldn't try sleeping if he was seeing things out of the corner of his eyes.

But the image didn't fade. It walked towards Seto, a very familiar silhouette with the sun to his back. Seto stood up. He heard the laptop clank against the patio, but he didn't care. He stumbled with slippered feet into the grass. The dew soaked through to his feet, but that didn't stop or slow him.

Atem began to run. Seto kept to a strong march, but continuously moved forward. Just before they met, Atem jumped, and Seto caught him. Atem wrapped his legs around Seto's waist and returned the kiss that Seto had given him all those months ago.

"Took you long enough," Seto scoffed once they broke for air, as if he'd expected Atem's return all along.

"There were things I had to do."

"Yeah? Like what?"

And Atem told him, about visiting Kisara, and the cities, and the villages, about spending time with thieves and tricking Throth himself for yet a third chance at life.

"Third time should be the charm, right?"

"I don't believe in luck or charms." Seto brushed his fingers up Atem's cheek bones. "But if they'd work for anyone, I suppose it'd be you."

"So how long has it been?" Atem asked. "What have I missed?"

"I'm afraid you've been replaced." Seto said. His tone and face Kaiba-level serious.

Atem furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"There's another Atem living in the mansion now." Seto turned around and started walking inside to hide the grin fighting against his face "You should probably come inside and meet him. Anzu's probably up and feeding him breakfast."

"Wait!" Atem jogged beside Seto, his face beaming. "Do you mean she had her baby?"

Seto nodded. "And of course they named him after you. Poor kid. I hope he get's Anzu's height."

* * *

The light from their new skylight was hardly gray, but Bakura was already trying to wake Marik up with myriad kisses to the neck and shoulders.

"Bakura, this is obscene," Marik muttered.

"I've done far more obscene things to you than kiss you."

"I meant the time of day."

"Oh does it offend you? How about this . . . you stay here and sleep." Bakura kissed down Marik's chest. "And I'll give you a foot massage, and then I'll bring you breakfast in bed, and then I'll stay here and kiss you until noon."

Marik opened his eyes. "Really?"

Bakura started laughing. "No! Get your sexy ass up. We have to water the turnips."

"Is Miyu up yet?"

"Probably not. She's almost as stubborn as you in the mornings. I usually have to drag her out of bed, too."

Marik smirked, grabbing Bakura and pushing him into the mattress.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Anything it takes to stay in bed a little longer."

Bakura started to moan as Marik kissed down his stomach. "You're a dirty, cheating bastard Marik. We have work to - gods yes, right there."

Marik smirked. "Weren't you saying something about work?"

"I suppose . . . starting an hour late won't hurt us."

"Mmmmm, good. That's what I wanted to hear."

* * *

Ryo was outside, enjoying the starlight. He heard a twig snap and he jerked his head, relieved when it was only Kek walking towards him. Kek dropped Ryo's stereo in the grass, hitting play. Ryo didn't recognize the music at first, but the a violin started to screech and Ryo smiled. "Camille Saint-Saens."

Kek walked towards him, wearing all black like death himself. He and Ryo circled a moment like they did when they sparred, but then they locked their right hands. Ryo used his left hand to hold Kek's waist and they started to waltz. They'd had plenty of time to practice, now that Kek didn't have to endlessly hunt the dead.

"You're getting good at this." Ryo smiled.

"It's the same as fighting, really."

Ryo spun Kek and then pulled him close once again.

"Ryou?"

"Yes Kek?"

They pulled apart a moment and then came close together. "Let's run away."

Ryo started laughing. "Do what?"

"Let's run away. Let's grab all our weapons and a bag of food and some medicine and start walking."

Ryo dipped Kek and pulled him up. "But why?"

"Can't you feel it? Everything is settled here. This is where it started, and this is where it ended, and now everything is going to be peaceful here."

Ryou brought their faces together, almost kissing distance but not quiet, before twirling Kek again. "Isn't that what we wanted?"

"Is _that_ what we wanted? I wanted a chance to live with you. Here we'll exist and be happy . . . but is that the same as living?"

"Well, Domino is doing well, but I'm sure there are other places that suffered worse than we did. I bet there's a lot of people out there that need help protecting themselves from bandits or gangs." He looked at Kek. "We could help those people. It'd be nice . . . to be the one protecting someone else for a change, and I have been feeling pent up since things have settled down," Ryo confessed.

The music ended and Kek grabbed Ryo by the waist, brushing their noses together. "Then run away with me, Ryo Bakura."


	38. Bonus chapter

*****Oooops, forgot to post this! It's a bonus chapter I wrote for an anon on Tumblr (fyi, I'm also sitabethe on tumblr). They wanted to see Ryo learn how to summon his ka*****

* * *

He was a thief. At least, he'd been a thief a long time ago, and it did feel like a very long time ago. Regardless, he still knew when someone was walking up behind him. Perhaps, then, it was a testament to the sort of life Bakura had been living over the last year and a half, that he didn't feel the need to check over his shoulder and draw the dagger in his boot. The shadows slipped behind him, two of them.

"Fuck off, I'm busy. It's harvest time and I have a fuckton of crops to deal with."

One of the two shadows chuckled. "It's good to see you, too, Spirit."

"Ryo." Bakura turned around. No one else would call him _spirit_.

There they stood side by side, Ryo and Kek. Ryo's hair was past his shoulders again, although not as long as when he was a kid. Kek's hair stood shorter on his head, though it still spiked into the sky. He wore a black tank and skirt while Ryou still wore jeans and his ugly double vest with a few more patches in it and his naginata slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, asshole. Long time no see," Kek said.

"But if you're busy I guess we could go spend the night at Yugi's house instead."

Bakura knew his old host brought up Yugi just to grate him, but Bakura really was more concerned about the crops than his former rivals.

"Quit chatting and help me pick all of these if you think we're cooking you dinner tonight."

Ryo laughed, setting his bag and weapon down and kneeling beside Bakura to pull up turnips and set them in the basket between them. Kek, however, frowned.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Marik's in the kitchen. Go help him."

He nodded, grabbed Ryo's things with his own, and disappeared into the house Bakura had built over a year ago.

It was dusk when they finished gathering turnips and storing them into Bakura's root cellar. As they dusted off their jeans, Bakura finally saw Miyu walking towards the house.

"Why the hell are you so late?"

"I got detention!" She shouted back.

"Again?"

Miyu stopped in front of them, face twisted in anger. "Yeah."

"Fighting?"

"Yeah."

"Did you win?"

"Of course I won!"

"Really, Bakura?" Ryo asked.

"Oh hey, Ryo's back!" Miyu grinned when she noticed Ryo standing beside Bakura. "Are you staying the night?"

"Of course! I already paid for it by helping with turnips. Bakura has to let me stay now." Ryo winked.

Bakura shrugged, still looking at Miyu. "Why were you fighting?"

"These boys were picking on another kid because he wore glasses. They took them and wouldn't let him have them back."

"But _you_ got into trouble?"

Miyu scowled. "Yeah, because those cry-baby cowards all lied to the teacher and she couldn't figure out who to believe so we all got detention."

"I'll have a talk with your teacher. Go wash up for dinner."

Miyu winced. "Can't Marik do it? Last time you talked to the teacher he had to drag you home screaming."

"Your teacher is a bitch."

"I know! Why do you even make me go to school? You were a better teacher and you're an idiot!"

"Thanks, kid." Bakura sighed, crossing his arms. "You're going to school because bla bla bla, rebuild society, and bla bla bla responsible parents, and bla bla bla Ishizu bitched me out for weeks until I agreed we'd try it for one school year- and you have two months to go, so suck it up."

"You need to stand up to her, Bakura!"

Bakura snorted. " _You_ know where she lives. Go give it a try."

Ryo shrugged. "You could try being nice to the teacher. I find that it helps."

"But I don't like her."

"If you give her a chance, maybe you'll find that she's not so bad."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." Miyu rolled her eyes. "I'm going to go wash up before dinner."

Bakura started at his hands. "We should do the same."

"Do you have hot water?" Ryo asked with a hopeful look on his face.

"Of course."

"Then I can't wait. Most cities are on Kaiba Corp generators now, but the small towns still don't, and that's where we spend most of our time."

"What have you been doing? You left without much warning."

Ryo grinned and shrugged. "Level grinding."

"Ha ha. Are there jobs posted in each tavern for adventurers?"

"Sometimes! But mostly we wander until we see someone who needs help. It's easier than I'd like it to be."

"Freaking do-gooder," Bakura mumbled, but he let Ryo take the first shower.

* * *

They ate rabbit stew for dinner. Ryo and Kek both ate two bowls. They rinsed it down with a gruel-like beer that Bakura bragged about making himself. It tasted like it. Still, Ryo had an unexpected sense of homecoming as he sat in Bakura's and Marik's kitchen eating stew and listening to Kek tell Miyu, Marik, and Bakura some of their better travel stories.

"Can I practice now?" Miyu asked once supper was finished and the dishes washed and put away.

"Do your homework."

"I did it during detention."

Bakura raised an eyebrow.

"I really did!"

"Okay, we'll go outside."

"Finally. Something useful- unlike school." She waved at Ryo and Kek. "Come and watch me, you guys."

They got up and sat on the porch. Cicadas hummed, making the air alive with noise. Bakura and Miyu held a dagger in each hand. Ryo smiled as he watched them spar. Bakura still had noticeable experience over Miyu, but it was obvious that she was going to be better than him one day by the way she made him earn each advantage.

Then they brought out their ka to join the battle. Both creatures glowed pristine white as they crashed together. Ryo watched in wonder. His eyes struggled to follow the creatures' movements because of their speed. Eventually they both dropped to the grass, exhausted.

"Done already, Bakura?" Marik called between cupped hands. "You're getting old."

Bakura snorted, pushing himself up and stumbling over to the concrete patio. He crashed to a sitting position between Marik and Ryo, slinging an arm around Marik's shoulders.

"Gross, you're covered in sweat."

"You love it." Bakura chuckled.

Miyu sat in the grass in front of them. "I need more sparing partners. You're getting easy to predict."

"Okay, first off, fuck you, and second, good luck finding someone else to fight, kid. No one can summon their ka anymore."

"Teach Ryo."

Ryo blinked. "Me?"

"Yeah, you have white hair. Your ka would be as strong as mine and Bakura's."

Bakura scratched the back of his head. "It's hard to teach adults."

"Quit being lazy," Kek said.

"I don't mind," Ryo said. "I can at least try."

Bakura dropped backwards so that his back rested on the porch. "I'm not going any easier on you than I went on Miyu."

"When have you ever gone easy on me?"

"Are you still writing Amane?"

"You changed the subject, but yes. I write her every week."

"I'll teach you," Bakura said, sitting back up. "You'd better go to sleep, dawn comes early."

Ryo started laughing. "Gee, I hope sensei notices me in class tomorrow!"

"Shut the fuck up."

* * *

Dawn did come early. Ryo was used to it, but he still rubbed his eyes as he rose from the pallet on which he'd slept the night before. He stumbled outside, the morning air cool and a slight mist on the ground. A basket dropped by his feet and then Bakura came into view.

"Today we're harvesting radishes and parsnips."

"What does this have to do with my ka?" Ryo hid a yawn behind his hand.

"We're going to go fast."

"Does that actually help or are you just using me as labor?"

Bakura smirked, then shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know. My father used to make me run to the river and fetch water and then help in the fields before practice every day. It's just how the village trained the children."

Ryo blinked, picking up the basket and following Bakura to the parsnip fields. "You've never talked about your father before, or any of them."

They knelt in the earth, the smell of soil and vegetation prominent in the morning air. "I didn't think about them then, not specifically. Everything had boiled down to vengeance back then."

"I know." Ryo struggled to keep up with Bakura's pace. "But what about now?"

"He was smart, my father, good at games and building traps in the tombs. He was sensible. I'm more like my mother. Her voice carried across the village, laughter, singing-"

"Rageful screams?"

"You're laughing, but it's true. She's not a woman you want to see angry."

"What about Amane? You talked to her, right?"

"Yeah, it's sort of like a dream now, though."

"But what was she like? Was she happy? Was she well? Did she talk about mom?"

"You can't think about this when you're meditating."

"Dammit, Bakura, we're digging in the dirt. Tell me."

"Everyone's happy there, Ryo. No one can be unwell. It's not here. She spent a lot of time with your mom, and at the village, and she had other friends- lots of them. I never really understood why she talked to me. She's a lot like you, but has a sharper tongue and smiles more."

"I smile."

"She smiles more- dammit, Ryo, don't hug me!"

Ryo let go, wiping the corner of his eye with his sleeve. "Thank you, for telling me."

"You'd better hurry up. The longer we take, the less time you have for actual training."

* * *

"The key is to stay calm, relaxed, and focused. Don't force it."

They'd been meditating for twenty minutes.

"But what exactly am I supposed to be doing?"

"Becoming aware."

"And finding Zen?"

"You know, I don't care if you learn this or not."

"Okay. Okay, but aware of _what_ exactly?"

"Everything."

"And you said this would be hard." Ryo chuckled.

"I'm pretty sure being a smart ass isn't a requirement."

"Then why are you so good at it?"

"Touché."

Ryo's face wrinkled. "It's like light threads everything together. Is it always like that?"

"Yes."

Ryo frowned, opening his eyes. "Bakura."

"Don't open your eyes, fool. You won't summon your ka staring at me."

"You sense this all the time, and you still went with Zorc? Why?"

Bakura flung his hands out in an exasperated gesture. "That doesn't have to do with anything!"

"But I don't understand. Heka, ka, you can _sense_ those things, but you were going to destroy it all?"

"Exactly." Bakura stood up, pacing. "I was going to destroy it all. Kul Elna was destroyed. I felt destroyed. Everything else needed to feel like that."

Ryo stared at the grass below him. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

Bakura dropped to the ground, spread-eagle. "None of that feels real anymore."

"Nothing feels real anymore. We live in a post-post zombie apocalypse."

Bakura glanced over at Ryo, raising a white eyebrow. "Does nothing feel real to you? For me, it's like things are finally solid."

"Kek's real," Ryo answered, "and I suppose the people we help as we travel are real." Ryo sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm bad at this. I've been thinking too much."

Bakura sat staring at Ryo. "You're not weak." Bakura looked away. "I know what I used to say, but I was lying. You're not weak. A weak soul could never have bore the Ring."

"I know that, but … thanks." Ryo closed his eyes.

He couldn't help but think of Kek, who had to earn his soul by serving the gods. He remembered Kek on a rooftop with gardenias tied into his hair and wearing a wedding dress with a hem grayed from ash. He remembered singing to Kek as they slipped off their clothes and made for love for what they both had been convinced would be the last time.

But it hadn't been.

And maybe Bakura was right and it's only now that anything was solid in the world.

Bakura was shouting at Ryo, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was too focused on the energy he could feel coursing through his system. Then he felt a name come up from within him.

 _Yggdrasil_

Ryo opened his eyes and blinked, bright light hurting his eyes. An enormous, white kirin stood in front of Ryo, pawing at the ground. Ryo stood up, reaching out his hand and brushing his hand against the creature.

"Yes! You did it!" Miyu's voice shouted from somewhere out of Ryo's field of vision. "Now we can fight!"

"How the hell did you managed that after _one day_? _How the fucking hell?_ " Bakura was shouting close by.

Then Ryo heard another voice, confident and smug. "I knew he'd do it."

He spun around and saw Kek grinning at him. Ryo mounted Yggdrasil, holding his hand out for Kek to clasp. "Want to ride away with me?"

"Hell yes I do." Kek grabbed his hand and allowed Ryo to help him onto the Kirin's back.

Kek's skirt flared up behind him as his legs swung onto the creature's back. He wrapped his arms around Ryo's waist and rested his chin on Ryo's shoulder. "Where to?"

"Hey! Don't take off!" Miyu shouted. "I wanna fight!"

Ryo laughed. "We'll be back before dark."

"Ryo, you can't just-"

But Ryo wasn't in a mood to listen to Bakura. He didn't care who saw his ka. If people could accept zombies then perhaps it was time for them to accept the presence of good magic as well. Ryo nudged Yggdrasil forward with a soft squeeze of his knees to the ka's sides. They melted into the wind.

Moving fast, they saw the town in a blur, but Ryo still noticed the changes. With zombie-free streets, the clutter, corpses, and rusted vehicles had been cleared. A few shops had been reclaimed, KC power lighting up the store windows. The roof tents, shanties, and lean-tos couldn't be seen any longer, but Ryo noticed herbs in window sills and hanging tomato and strawberry plants.

Everything came back. The grocery store where they had burned corpses in the parking lot, the leveled parking lot that was once the Kaiba Corp stadium, the electronics store, the hospital, and Seto's mansion. The memories burst through Ryo's head as he saw each place, but almost all of the damage was gone. Scars of it remained, much like the scars marking Ryo's entire body, but the city itself was whole, and alive, and well again, like Ryo himself.

Ryo wasn't sure where he was going until they stopped on one particular rooftop. They dismounted, Ryo called back Yggdrasil to conserve energy.

"The flowers are still here," Kek said, taking Ryo's hand.

"Anzu probably sneaks back here to take care of them. For some reason I was hoping they would still be here. They remind me of that night." He offered his hand to Kek once again.

Kek grabbed it, clinking their rings together as their fingers met. He leaned in close and Ryo rested his cheek against Kek's chest as they started a slow waltz.


End file.
